The Legend of Karok
by Janika
Summary: What happens when you take Mobians, put them in a medieval setting with an established aristocracy, then throw in a little magic and mayhem? Some pretty interesting developments, that's for sure! It's sort of a Zorro meets Cinderella story with a hint of Mulan tossed in too.
1. Poverty Isn't a Choice

_**This is a fan-work based off the incredible series and art by LiyuConberma on DeviantArt, including the comic "Teen's Play" that stars Sonic, Shadow and Silver in all their hedgehoggy glory.**_ _ **To see a clearer image of the cover, search on google for "liyuconberma insanity lineup". It's from a picture drawn to give quick biographies of the characters in another story.**_

 _ **Since this is basically a background fic, no prior knowledge is required to understand what's going on, but it does help to get a clearer image of what's happening and who everyone is.**_

 _ **Chapter 1: Poverty Isn't a Choice**_

Prince Mortesen of Cosium watched from a higher point as the infamous Karok rode his stag straight toward the gulch, staying two lengths in front of the pursuing horses. The thief crouched low on its back just as they rounded a stretch of trees and the wide barrier came into view. Everyone behind him pulled up, but the stag took the jump, landing on the other side with room to spare. Then they sprinted off into the trees.

The hedgehog prince grinned to himself and signaled his soldiers to go around. They acknowledged his wish and rode west along the ravine. He slid down the steep hillside and waited. Sure enough, the masked vagabond dressed completely in black appeared, trying to take the quickest route out of the valley, but a wall of broken stone blocked the path. He stopped, sensing a trap.

"I knew you'd try to escape, Karok," the black hedgehog with fiery stripes along his quills said as he stepped out of the brush. "I had my soldiers drive you this way on purpose."

"Prince Mortesen," he growled, voice almost boyishly high.

No one had been able to get this close to Karok, and now Mortesen could see that his fur was blue because his ears poked through a wide-brimmed hat, and the mask didn't cover the lower half of his face. He still couldn't be sure what species his quarry was, though.

"I wanted a chance to capture you myself," he said, drawing his sword. "There's a way around that ravine, but it'll take my men about ten minutes or so to get here. That should be enough time to bring you to your knees."

Despite this threat, the corner of Karok's mouth turned upward as though he enjoyed the notion of a challenge. His weapon glinted in the sunlight as he dismounted and gave his steed a reassuring pat. It daintily stepped into the trees, not at all concerned. Mortesen realized with a jolt that it had to be a Mystical because it had no saddle or harness, and there was a gleam of intelligence in its eye as it threw a look at him and snorted. (1)

"You're certainly overconfident, Prince. But then, it's not as though you know enough to realize how vulnerable it makes you," he jeered, the tip of his sword flicking out to test Mortesen's defense.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" he asked, parrying with Ribbon in the Air.

"Only that it's easy to fool someone whose ego is _half_ as large as yours."

Karok thrust at him using Watered Silk and he barely ducked in time, countering with The Sapling Trembles, but it missed the mark. Mortesen's brow furrowed as they went back and forth silently for another minute or two. This vagabond had been trained in formal sword-fighting, and clearly from a young age. Some of the sword forms were unusual variations of those he himself had learned, but it was beyond obvious that his opponent knew precisely what he was doing.

The thief backed off a step, derision in his voice as he shouted, "You and your ilk make me sick! Arrogance is the sign of a weak heart—of a coward!"

Mortesen's eyes narrowed, beginning to flame with rage. "When I have you at my mercy I'd like to see you call me a coward to my face again."

"If you beat me, that will just prove your swordsmanship, not your courage. And the way your father has forced his people to steal so they can survive only to turn around and condemn them as thieves shows he's a lackluster ruler who doesn't know a thing about his own kingdom. An ignorant, heartless king cannot teach bravery to _anyone_."

The accusation and the insult were so infuriating that Mortesen charged with The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, sword swinging in an arc toward his opponent's chest. He would have easily been beaten right then since he wasn't thinking rationally, but a blistering wind also came driving at Karok from every direction as the prince tapped into his Element.

The magical attack drove Karok back, making him shut his eyes tight to keep sand from getting in them, then Mortesen disarmed him with a solid slash. The black hedgehog spun in a circle, ramming an elbow into his stomach. His opponent slammed to the ground, wheezing for breath.

" _ **Never**_ insult the Royal family, you lowlife!" he spat.

Karok lay on the ground, eyes still closed as he coughed. The raging wind faded away to nothing. The prince reached down and grasped the mask and Karok tried to stop him, but he batted the hand away. Then the second it was off, he saw the feminine features that had been hidden underneath.

Mortesen jerked back with a surprised noise. "Y-You're a _girl?!_ "

She no longer wheezed, but she still seemed weak and didn't move. He pulled off the black cloth covering the back of her head and saw she was a hedgehog with a slight curl to her quills.

Was it really... _her?_

He was leaning close to her now, his fingers touching the smooth fur of her cheek in something almost like tenderness. He was so distracted that he didn't notice her hand sliding down into a pouch at her waist.

Then suddenly she mashed a fistful of powder directly into his face! Mortesen pulled away, sneezing and rubbing his eyes, then in the space of a few breaths he fell over, senseless.

Pushing herself back up, she grabbed her mask and quill-cover as she whistled for the stag. It came over and she was about to mount when her eyes were drawn once more to the black hedgehog. She would never get another chance like this.

When the soldiers arrived a minute later, both Karok and the prince of Cosium were gone.

* * *

He felt cool earth beneath his head and smelled the unfamiliar mingled scents of ash, flowers and softbark pine all around.

Mortesen opened his eyes. He was in a one-room cottage, nearly devoid of furniture except for a low table, a chair and a flat sleeping pallet on the floor. Very little was on the walls aside from three shelves and several pegs with cloaks and other clothing; there was also a broom in the corner, a water bucket, a large wooden crate and rows of baskets along the wall. Flowers he couldn't identify hung drying from the low rafters. The girl was seated at the table, writing.

He instantly tried to use his Element, but it was completely blocked. Looking down, he saw manacles on his wrists. There were symbols etched into the metal.

"Where did you get these!?" he shouted.

She ignored him until she was done writing, then took a handful of fine sand, pouring it onto the paper to help the ink dry faster. After ten seconds she carefully poured the leftover sand back into its dish and folded the paper, setting it on a shelf before finally turning to her prisoner. Mortesen seethed as he was forced to wait.

"Why do you want to know?" Her voice had none of the boyishness from before. She sounded like a young lady, and one in full control of a situation.

"Because they're restraints for magic and you _know_ it. They're only supposed to be kept in the castle dungeon and major prisons in the kingdom."

"Then I suppose you don't know as much as you think. Some of the barons put them on their serfs, especially the ones who are particularly gifted in magic, and not because they committed any crimes."

Mortesen stared at her, his Royal gift telling him the words were correct (at least _that_ wasn't affected by the manacles). (2) He thrust aside the discomfort this information caused him.

"You cheated. Whatever that powder was, it wasn't very honorable in combat."

She raised an eyebrow. " _Who_ used their Element first?"

He looked down, cheeks burning. "I got carried away. You shouldn't have said those things about my father."

"Even if they're true?" she demanded.

"They're _**not**_."

"How do you know he's a fair ruler? Your respect for him is admirable, but you don't know anything about the lives of most of your people, Prince Mortesen."

The female hedgehog stood up, selecting a bunched cluster of dried flowers from the ceiling and carrying them over to the table. She took a mortar and pestle from the crate and set it down, beginning to grind with a purposeful air.

"Why should I? I'm not a commoner." He yanked at the chain in irritation. It was fastened securely to a ring set in the stone fireplace. "You have a _real_ name, don't you?"

"Thia," she answered shortly, still focusing more on her task than him.

"It doesn't suit you," he said after a moment, eyes glinting. "I think 'Athena' would be more appropriate."

She froze, her back toward him so that he couldn't see her expression. "How do you know me?"

"I was invited to the ball your parents threw for you last year. It's kind of hard to forget what happened." He couldn't keep the grin back. "I overheard you threaten bodily harm to Prince Steffan if he touched your derrière again while you were dancing with him, but I guess he didn't believe you until you crushed his wrist and broke all his fingers. Watching you march him over to a window and dump him into the moat was quite possibly the best entertainment I had all year."

He could see the ghost of a smile playing along the edge of her mouth, but she sternly refused to let it out completely.

"My younger brother spent three times as long with you as I did, so I'm not surprised you don't remember I was there. I was confused at the time why your mother arranged for all the firstborn princes who attended to spend so little time with you. Now it makes sense."

Athena spun on him, crimson eyes on fire. "And what exactly do you mean by _that?_ "

Mortesen shrugged. "If you were trying to secure your parents' throne you wouldn't be able to marry a firstborn, otherwise you'd have to go live at his kingdom. So I was invited out of politeness even though the real purpose was to look for a suitable match with a younger son. But the fact that you received a ball and your twin brother didn't raised too many questions. I think it was the month after I first saw you that the news came out and your family was exiled."

The pestle rested in her hand, a few broken petals clinging to its thick head, but Athena seemed to have forgotten all about it. "We did nothing wrong."

"Except pretend there was a male heir when there _wasn't_. Your country's laws about the throne only going to a prince were very clear. I see why you're so skilled with the sword." Mortesen threw a sneer at her. "How long did you pretend to be Prince Justus? Did he ever really exist?"

Silence filled the cottage.

She finally spoke, voice almost deadly. "You have not earned the right to ask those questions. Enjoy your stay with me. I suspect it will be a long one."

* * *

Mortesen ran his tongue over his lips but it hardly wet them. Athena had been gone for over an hour and he was practically dying of thirst. There was a bucket of water against the far wall, but he couldn't reach it since he was on a leash.

At last she returned, swinging a heavy burlap sack onto the table and sifting through it. Potatoes, beets, carrots and several other vegetables tumbled out, mostly covered in dirt as though they'd just been pulled.

"Where did you get all that?"

"Baron Reno. I made sure his men saw me when I left so that none of his serfs will be punished instead."

She placed three potatoes on a shelf then started dividing the rest into piles. Once Athena was satisfied, she placed each pile into baskets by the door.

"You stole that food," he accused. "What are you planning to do?"

She shot a look of amusement his way. "Oh, you'll see how horrible of a plan I have in just a little while."

He watched her take a simple peasant dress off a peg and slip it on, hiding the manly outfit beneath. The blue hedgehog fumbled with the laces a bit, then went over to the water bucket. Mortesen's throat cried out for relief.

"Are you at least going to share some of that? I haven't had anything to drink since before you brought me to this 'sweet' little hovel."

She glanced back. "Oh? And what did you do to earn it? All the field workers on Baron Reno's land get only one bucket a day each, and only if their wives bring it to them— _ **if**_ they are not employed elsewhere. Some of them go all day with barely a cupful. You'll be fine until tomorrow."

The idea of not having a drink until the following day while watching her slurp from a dipper nearly drove him crazy, but he retained his dignity and said nothing. She filled a cup and sat down at the table again. Once more Athena began to write. He had nothing better to do, so he had no reason not to ask about it.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing another grievance to your father. So far he hasn't responded to any of my letters. I'm not surprised, but it's worth the effort all the same."

The prince's head tilted to one side. "He never mentioned any letters."

"Why should he? I doubt he believes them, but he doesn't care enough to find out the truth. What does that say for your father's priorities?" There was a trilling whistle and she stood up with a smile. "Ah! Right on time."

Mortesen saw her go to the open door and wave, then half a minute later a group of five children came bounding inside. They pulled up short when they saw the prisoner. He was surprised to see how skinny they were compared to the children he saw at home.

"Miss Thia," a jackrabbit started nervously, "who's that?"

"Oh, just someone from the castle. Karok caught him this morning and I'm watching him for a little while," she said, shrugging as if he wasn't important enough to pay any attention to.

For the first time Mortesen realized his crown was missing. And since he didn't leave the castle often, of course he wouldn't be recognized. He didn't want to admit he was the prince because this particular situation was more than a bit humiliating. It was still annoying to be treated like just _anyone_ , though.

"Here," the blue hedgehog said, handing a basket to each of them. "That should be enough for a few days. Karok also got these from someone who didn't need them. They'll make good breeches or dresses."

The children's eyes lit up with excitement as she pulled several long, well-made cloaks from the pegs on the wall. Once they had all run away, Athena sat back down with a more contented attitude. Mortesen glared at her contemptuously.

"Stealing food and clothing for brats, huh? How _noble_."

She turned her head toward him, the smile fading away. "Their fathers are either dead or in prison. There is no one else to provide for their families since the duke doesn't allow women without a man in the house to receive a wage even though they still work for the barons. What alternative do they have? _Starve?_ "

Mortesen's expression didn't change. "It's still stealing."

"Fine. I'd like to see how long your pride and honor will keep your belly full," she snorted, turning her back on him.

* * *

Two hours later while Athena was gone on another "errand", Mortesen stretched his hands toward the table desperately, the manacles beginning to chafe cuts into his flesh. His mouth felt drier than desert sand. The cup sat there all alone, filled nearly to the brim—and he couldn't reach it!

A new tactic finally occurring to him, he laid down on the floor and stretched as far as he could with his feet. The toe of one boot managed to hook around the table's nearest leg. Carefully the hedgehog pulled it toward him, and after a minute it was close enough to reach with his hands.

Never had water tasted so fresh! He sipped slowly, savoring every drop.

After he had drunk, his eyes fell on the letter Athena had been composing. Curiosity got the better of him and he picked it up.

 _King Negolas,_

 _The oversight of every town by a baron was originally established for the mutual benefit of nobles and peasants. A baron provided homes, equipment and wages while the peasants did work. The current system no longer operates this way. The barons restrict everything from clothing and fuel to food and water. Anyone who attempts so much as to grow his own garden is punished. The peasants are kept in a constant state of dependency, further preyed upon by their barons who treat them as little more than slaves. Even the suggestion that a family might wish to leave can result in imprisonment and forced labor. Desperation is a way of life for your people. All the uprisings—_

"What are you doing?"

Mortesen jumped and her letter fell from his hands. Athena stood in the doorway carrying two baskets of late, rust-speckled pears. He didn't answer and she looked at the drag-marks on the dirt floor.

"I think a punishment is in order," she said lightly. The blue hedgehog set down her baskets and picked up a thin, whiplike stick leaning against the wall.

Mortesen stared, not quite believing his ears. " _What?_ "

"I know I left a full cup of water right there. I didn't give you permission to drink it."

"You can't be serious." The black hedgehog straightened his shoulders, trying to appear less a prisoner and more a prince. "I was _parched_. You hadn't given me any water all day. I had every right to take it!"

"It's still stealing," she said, mocking his earlier words.

She came toward him and he backed away without meaning to, intimidated by the unreasonableness in her eyes. His ears flattened and he flinched as the stick whistled through the air toward him—then stopped.

"Even you understand the injustice, don't you?"

He looked up, embarrassed that he had actually cringed in front of her, and now growing angry. "Oh, I see. This whole thing was a trick."

"Only to show you the reality of what you so callously refer to as 'stealing'. If someone is thrust into a situation in which they have to choose between starvation and thievery, should they be punished for trying to survive the _only_ way they can?"

"You tricked me," he insisted, resolving not to think more about the matter.

"You needed to feel that desperation for yourself. I only take food from those who have plenty and I only give it to the neediest ones I can find. Sometimes I'm too late." She paused, sadness weighing down her shoulders. "Last week I dug eight graves in one of the mining districts, mostly for elders...but also two for children. They were starving and overworked to the point of death. And meanwhile _you_ sit in your castle complaining this or that dish isn't just right."

"I'm no pansy," Mortesen growled.

"But you've never been truly hungry in your life."

"I'm sick of you barking at me!" he shouted. "If all you did was bring me here to 'teach me a lesson' then consider your experiment a failure. I refuse to be a fool who swallows every word you say. I _demand_ you release me!"

"Go ahead and demand all you like, Prince Mortesen," Athena said, turning to the table and picking up the loose papers there. "The only one who will decide when you go home— _ **if**_ you go home—is me."

Fury boiled inside Mortesen's chest. Hardly realizing what he was doing until it was done, he looped the chain between his manacles over her head. The links pressed into her neck and he tightened them, snarling, " _Let me go!_ "

She had stiffened, but he could tell she was more upset than frightened. "You're very good at getting into trouble, aren't you? This is the only warning I'm giving you. Take this chain off me _now_."

"Not until you promise to take the chain off _**me**_ immediately."

"Then I suppose we're at an impasse. Oh, wait..." Her hands snapped back and seized his wrists in a grip of iron. "No, we're not."

Mortesen grunted as she squeezed slowly, like a vice. He tried to pull tighter on the chain, but the muscles in his wrists screamed until he felt something pop in the left one. The black hedgehog gasped in acute pain and the next thing he knew, Athena had thrown him to the ground. As his head hit the dirt, he blacked out for a few seconds, coming back to his senses in a daze and finding himself pinned down beneath her knee.

"If you had just stopped, I wouldn't have done that. My Royal gift is that I was born with two hearts. They give me strength, stamina, speed...and I suspect quite a temper too. Don't underestimate me."

"Oh, I won't, _Princess_ ," he growled, holding his left hand awkwardly.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Athena grabbed him by the tunic and dragged him up, shouting into his face, " _ **Princess?**_ Princess of _what?_ A country that threw me and my parents out and then destroyed itself by picking a fight with its strongest neighbor?! Most of my people are slaves, scattered or sold, and the land itself was taken over by strangers who never set foot on it until they conquered. Marcuria's history, customs, music...her beauty...it's all gone. My country is _dead_."

She threw him down and stalked over to the table, returning to the mortar and pestle. Mortesen couldn't be certain if he'd really seen a tear on her face or if it was just his imagination. With furious motions she crushed the remains of the flowers she'd been grinding earlier, then slammed the pestle down and poured a little of the powder into her hand.

"You are too much of a pain to keep around."

Two long steps and she was close enough to throw the powder into his face. Mortesen tried to jerk back, but he hadn't realized what it was right away and accidentally inhaled it again. Seconds later his eyes drooped shut.

* * *

1 – Mystical – An intelligent animal that can form an attachment to a magic-user, almost like a "familiar" but distance doesn't affect the bond and the two can go years without seeing one another. They can be ordinary animals as well as mythical ones, but a ritual called a "Bonding Contract" is required and it must be fully voluntary on both sides.

2 – Royal gift – An innate talent or physical feature that members of a Royal family inherit.

 _ **A/N: I also enjoy throwing in references to books, games and such, so don't be surprised if you recognize something from elsewhere. It's a lot more fun than making up random names. Liyu did it in her stories, so I'm just keeping up the trend.**_


	2. Politics Can Be Deadly

_**Chapter 2: Politics Can Be Deadly**_

It was the smell of freshly-aired sheets and castle stone that told him where he was before he'd even opened his eyes. Mortesen blinked. He was still groggy, but he recognized his own room instantly. It was extravagant with rugs, drapes and bed curtains all dressed in gold and red, matching the tapestry of the royal crest of Cosium that hung on the far wall. His bed was large enough to fit several people comfortably, but only the young prince lay in it.

His neck felt sore and he reached up to rub it, then gave a pained hiss as the wrist Athena had injured protested the movement. Someone heard and came over. His father had been sitting in a large armchair beside a set of lit candles, waiting for his son to wake.

"Mortesen? Are you alright?"

King Negolas was coal-black without a flicker of any other color to brighten his fur, and in his hand was the scepter crested with the Cosmos Diamond.

"I suppose so, Father," he answered as he sat up carefully, noticing that the dust-crusted outfit he'd worn earlier had been replaced. "It's just my wrist. What happened? How did I get here?"

"Someone found you dumped in front of the main gate outside Cosium Town shortly after sunset. You've been home less than half an hour." Now he looked down at his son with less concern and more displeasure. "Perhaps you ought to tell me how your day went. The report the soldiers gave me sounded suspiciously like you put yourself in a dangerous position on purpose."

The young prince sighed. "I fought Karok alone, exactly the way you told me _**not**_ to. I apologize for my arrogance. I truly thought I could best...him." He didn't know why, but he didn't want to reveal Athena's identity. "I was careless. He threw some powder in my face and the next thing I knew, I woke up in a cottage."

"Was that his headquarters?" King Negolas asked, leaning forward as he grew a bit eager.

"Maybe. It was practically bare, but all I know it was in the middle of a forest. There was a...a girl there. She kept an eye on me all day."

Lying to his father yanked on something vital deep inside. He resolved to be truthful except when it came to Karok's gender. Just until he could work through some things.

"Was she Karok's wife? A friend? Related to him somehow?"

"Definitely related, Father."

"What species was she? And what about her coloring?"

Mortesen paused, picking at a snagged thread in the blanket he was lying on top of. "Please don't ask me that."

The king looked at him in an odd way. "Why?"

"Because I know you'll send men to go hunting down everyone that looks like her. Father, I used my truth-telling every second we spoke. Everything she told me is _true_. People have their magic blocked with restraint manacles for no reason, they're punished severely for the slightest offenses, many are starving to death on barons' lands, and they aren't even permitted to leave if they want to find a better life."

The words spilled out almost against his will. Not until this moment had he fully realized he believed Athena. Or perhaps he had been too proud to allow himself to believe it while facing her.

But his father seemed to brush the words aside. "Of course those things happen here and there. It's inevitable. Some barons are worse than others. But I guarantee you, Mortesen, that being stuck on a baron's land and working for their sustenance is far easier than scraping a living off some bare stretch of countryside alone."

"But I saw children come to the house," he insisted. "I've never seen anyone so thin in my life! When she gave them food and clothing they were so excited, as though she'd given them the most wonderful presents in the world."

King Negolas cracked the smallest of smiles. "At any time during your stay did you feel this girl was trying to get you to think a certain way about things?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"There you have it, my son. You only saw what she wanted you to see and heard what she wanted you to hear. Yes, those things happen, but on what _scale?_ Don't forget the truth can be twisted just enough to trick even you."

"Yes, Father," the prince replied in a defeated voice.

"At least you're home and safe. Now get some sleep. I'll discuss this more with you tomorrow. We need to catch that thief and put an end to his lawbreaking once and for all."

King Negolas blew out the candles and left. The door closed, but Mortesen pushed himself up from the bed. He couldn't sleep and was almost certain someone else couldn't either. Making sure his father's bedroom door had closed first, he slipped into the hall and crept to the door a short distance from his own. Inside was a very nice room, but not nearly as impressive as his.

He entered without knocking, feeling a swell of flesh-crawling unease creep over him, but he ignored it as always. Rakar looked up from a book at his desk. A single candle lit the page he was reading.

"Brother!" he cried when he caught sight of his visitor.

"Shhh!" Mortesen shushed frantically as he hurried to shut the door. "You don't want to wake everyone up, do you?"

Rakar smiled apologetically and clasped arms with Mortesen. It was the most intimate gesture they knew, so it was more akin to a tight embrace. His fur was light brown like his mother's, but his hands and ears had turned ruddy this past spring, implying he would get darker within the next few years. His quills had a staggered, uneven quality to them, so Rakar always kept them tied back.

"What happened?" he asked, brushing the shank of red hair out of his face. "When you didn't come back, everyone was scared that Karok had taken you for ransom."

"No. He...he just wanted to make an impression on me." The older prince gave a summary of the same story he'd given his father.

Rakar nervously fidgeted, lighting a few more candles so that they could see one another clearly. "I'm just glad you're back. It... I think it's getting worse."

Mortesen leaned forward, staring seriously at his half-brother. "How exactly?"

"No one would come near me earlier in the training yard. I had to spar against a dummy and I looked like an idiot in the process. It's like they all knew I could..." Rakar trailed off uncertainly, then he burst out, "I'm the mix of a noble and a Royal! What if the reason people feel so strange around me is really because my gift is unstable?"

"Stop it," his brother rebuked forcefully. "You didn't feel any different than usual to me when I came in. Once you discover all the facets of your Royal gift you'll be able to control the way your aura comes across too. I know it. Let's try to work with it again."

The younger prince stared, his reluctance obvious. " _Now?_ "

"Right now. Focus on my soul."

Rakar swallowed and reached out, touching Mortesen's arm. A heavy, sluggish feeling came over the crown prince and he lowered himself into a chair weakly. After a few moments he looked up.

"Did you try to take more than half this time?"

"Yes, but I can't seem to hold more. I think that might be my limit." He was staring down into his open hands at something only visible to him. "...A blue hedgehog. She's what you're thinking about most. You're...worried."

Mortesen nearly choked. He ought to have remembered Rakar could see what was foremost in someone's mind when he touched their soul. At least his own mental image of Athena wasn't her dressed as Karok or else his brother would have figured it out.

"Brother, who is she? Why are you worried about her?"

"Ah—let's go on to the next step," he dodged.

Rakar looked even more nervous. "Please... I don't like that. Don't make me do it!"

"Rakar, control is everything. If you can't master your gift, it could end up bursting out when you least expect it. Remember the story about our great-grandfather? He didn't know all the abilities of the Third Eye and one day when he overreacted to an ambassador's rudeness, he accidentally hypnotized him. He didn't know what he'd done or how to undo it and it nearly drove the ambassador mad. Two years of war followed." He stood up unsteadily and held his younger brother by the shoulders. "I know you're afraid, but if you let this skill remain unharnessed, it could come back later and cause _real_ harm."

The brown hedgehog kept his head down the whole time. Without looking up he gave a short nod and clenched his hands. A shudder went through his body, then he straightened.

"I think it worked. I feel stronger."

"Let's time it," Mortesen said, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece.

They talked for a while about inconsequential things until the younger prince said the soul had completely returned to his brother's body.

"Almost ten minutes. Nearly double what it was last time." He clapped a hand on Rakar's back. "See? You're not getting worse—you're getting _better_."

He started to smile, but it turned into something anxious instead. "Brother, I know you agreed not to tell Mother and Father that I can manipulate souls until I was ready, but I...I just don't think I'll ever be. Promise me you'll never tell _anybody_ what I can really do."

"But Rakar, you have an incredibly powerful gift! Why would you want to hide—?"

" _Please_."

Mortesen looked at the expression of fear and misery on his half-brother's face. "All right. I swear I won't say you can do anything except see spirits until you decide to release me from this promise."

He was relieved more than the crown prince would have expected. "Thank you, Brother. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"I'd better get back to my room. If She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed catches me in here again she'll find some underhanded way to punish me. I don't know why your mother hates the fact that we spend time together. Goodnight, Rakar."

"Goodnight."

But before Mortesen closed the door, he looked back. "You _**can**_ do it, Rakar. Control is everything."

Once he was gone, Rakar went over to the mirror. With shaking hands he pulled his vest wide and looked at the reflection, throat tightening at the sight. A scar ran from the collarbone to his ribs in an arc. Even as he watched, it thinned. After another minute it was gone, leaving only a vague burning sensation behind.

If he was meant to touch people's souls, then why did it hurt him to do so?

* * *

The crown prince hadn't gone out looking for Athena, though in a way he wanted to. But he did spend more of his free time in Cosium Town. It was surprising how excited the people were to see him, and it didn't take long for him to become comfortable with their informal chatter.

A few days after his experience with "Karok", he sat down to eat his lunch at the town square. The castle looked so tall and forbidding from here, situated on a sea cliff that jutted out partway into the bay. Its towers, studded with gray stone that was occasionally bleached white, seemed to frown from above at the smallness of the neighboring town's buildings.

Cosium Town itself was larger than most since it was the capitol, but because of its relatively small harbor that wasn't deep enough for larger ships, there were only three docks mainly used for fishing vessels. An hour's easy walk southwest was another town, Briny Bay, with a much larger harbor, thereby naturally delegating it as the main heart of trade and commerce on this side of the kingdom.

Mortesen was just considering whether to return home for a sparring lesson or go down to watch the fishermen haul in their nets when he noticed a squirrel edging along toward a cart selling bread. While the baker had her back turned, his hand shot out and snatched a thin loaf. He'd only taken two steps when a boy started shouting. The squirrel panicked, but the little beaver who had seen him grabbed hold of his tail and wouldn't let go. Two others seized him from either side and hauled him back to the cart.

"Mama, I saw him!" the young beaver said. "He knew you weren't looking!"

Mortesen looked at the squirrel. He was about ten years older than himself and looked desperate. Most of the people in Cosium Town weren't the hungry, oppressed types, but they were still around. While townspeople shouted and growled at him, the hedgehog wondered if this thief had a family. One hand fingered some loose coins in his pocket.

Impulsively he approached and the crowd fell back, growing silent in respect. "I was watching too. Are you absolutely certain he stole the bread?"

The beaver child nodded.

"Then what are these?" He stooped and pretended to pick up something beside the wheel of the cart. Straightening, he held up two coppers.

The baker looked at the money and then at the embarrassed squirrel. "I see. It wasn't enough, but at least you _tried_ to pay. Take it."

The thief's arms were released and he gazed at Mortesen, knowing exactly where the money had come from. "My Prince..."

But then he squeezed the bread in his hands and gave a quick bow before darting out of the square. Everyone began to scatter now that there was no reason to stand around. Mortesen reached into his pocket.

"I'll pay the difference he owed you."

She shook her head. "I can't accept charity, especially from you. I truly appreciate it, but... Thank you."

Trying not to appear rude, she busied herself by rearranging some buns. Left with no other choice, the hedgehog returned to the place where he'd eaten his lunch, thinking about the baker's response.

"I know what you did," someone said behind him a short time later.

Mortesen looked back and saw the young beaver crouching on the other side of the low wall where he was seated. He appeared to be trying to stay out of his mother's line of sight. And he looked angry.

"He'll just steal again and my mama will have to deal with it again."

"I was trying to help," the prince said, a bit flustered at being addressed so candidly by someone at least five years younger.

"You're laying a rag on a broken arm," the commoner snorted. "I heard my parents talking after they brought flour back from the miller's. It's getting harder to buy, and we can't afford even a single loaf to be stolen."

"Then why wouldn't your mother take the money I offered her?"

"Because you offered it in front of all those people!" he nearly exploded, barely managing to remain hidden. "She couldn't take it and make herself look like she was grubbing for every coin she could get."

"Oh..." Mortesen glanced back across the square at the baker. It seemed peasants had their own type of pride too. When he turned to speak with the young beaver again, the prince found himself alone.

He sat there thinking for a few minutes. It very well might be impossible to find the thief again, but he did know the baker. With a plan firmly in mind, he set off for the edge of town. It didn't take long to get there.

The mill was situated near the river, its wheel turning in a slow, ponderous way. The large sliding door was open and the miller, a gray porcupine, looked up.

"Prince Mortesen, it's a pleasure!"

"Glad to hear it, but I'm here on business. How much does a month's supply of flour for the average baker cost?" he wondered, looking around at all the turning machinery and gears.

Briefly the miller did the calculations in his head. "About fifteen silvers. Why? Are you planning a change in occupation, my Prince?"

Not having much of a sense of humor, he only shook his head in response to the joke. "Do you know a beaver baker?"

"Yes. Jev and his wife Loretta own a bakery on the east side." He looked at Mortesen shrewdly. "My Prince, if you are thinking of giving them the money, I know they won't take it."

"They'll accept this. Their son did me a favor and I'm simply repaying the debt—anonymously." He pulled out the money and handed it over. "And you may tell them that sound advice is worth its weight in gold."

"I understand," the porcupine nodded. "I'm sure they will too, once the surprise wears off. Your concern for the citizens of this town is admirable."

"Thank you, and good day."

Maybe he was still 'laying a rag on a broken arm', but what else could he do to help? What was the real root of the problem? He didn't know. And he wasn't sure how to find out.

As he left the mill, someone hiding in the shade of the forest smiled. She'd been watching him that day and wondered if maybe he had listened to her after all. "I guess there is a bit of hope for you yet, Prince."

A flash of movement caught his attention and Mortesen rushed forward trying to get a better look. He recognized the figure on a stag just before she vanished. Something he didn't understand squeezed inside to see her leave.

Then his gaze drifted from the edge of the trees to the forest beyond. A guilty ache stabbed at him. It had been a long time. Too long.

Rock-hard resolve pushed him forward and he went to the nearest livery stable to rent a horse. After paying for an entire day because he wasn't sure how long he would be gone, Mortesen mounted a gentle black mare and set off for the Forbidden Forest.

A few birds chittered to each other overhead, but there was no trace of any other animals. He knew they were there, but the woods kept them hidden and safe from any visitors. Several times he'd seen groups of Mysticals, though none of them had ever taken an interest in him.

There were only two minutes of riding through tangled undergrowth and dense trees, then an avenue seemed to materialize before him, leading along the smoothest path to the center of the wood where a bowl-shaped valley and waterfall waited. It took some time to reach it, but when he did, the familiar forest spirit was waiting there with a welcoming smile. This was the only place she could take on physical form.

The prince briefly spared a thought for the legend that gave the Forbidden Forest its name nearly two hundred years ago. An army invading Cosium had tried to attack the castle by going through the forest and coming at it from the southeast, but only a handful of terrified soldiers made it to the other side, babbling and half-mad. They described the earth opening wide to swallow dozens of their fellows at a time, streams going dry just before the parched men could take a drink, trees moving on their own to divide the army, and vines that dragged away anyone who tried to hack at the undergrowth or light a fire.

Shortly after the war was over, the king entered the forest alone to thank it for taking part in defending their country. The spirit that resided there revealed herself to him and, after some discussion, agreed to be an advisor and protector to the best of her abilities for the king and his heir.

For the next ten generations she had been a secret friend to the main line of the Royal family. Negolas had forbidden Mortesen from telling anyone about her except his firstborn someday. It was one of the only things he ever kept from Rakar.

"Mortesen! It's been quite some time, hasn't it?" Grandmother Lake asked, appearing as an elderly hedgehog whose body was composed entirely of water. She held a cane and was dressed in a long gown and cape whose design had gone out of fashion well over a century earlier, but it suited her. "You don't look nearly so chubby as you did the last time I saw you."

"I haven't come in four years," he said, getting off the mare and leading it over to the water for a drink. "Not since..."

Her smile faded slightly and she placed a hand on his arm. It was tangible, but almost liquid without being wet. "The summer fever took many lives that year. I'm sorry Amuera was one of those lost."

Mortesen looked down at a bracelet on his wrist, nearly disguised because it was the same color as his fur. He touched its obsidian beads, his words bitter. "Queen Priscilla certainly didn't seem to mind. Suddenly she was my father's only wife again."

"Is that why you came to me? To blame someone who had no hand in your mother's death?"

The prince met her eyes at last. "No. I missed you, but it felt wrong to want to come here...as if doing so would be almost a way of replacing her in my life."

The spirit looked at him with soft blue eyes. "Why do you think I go by the name 'Grandmother Lake'? I know it's wrong to usurp so important a figure as a parent. _**Any**_ old woman can be a grandmother. I'll never take her place, but I can still be there for you in my own way."

Mortesen was hugging her before he knew it and she returned the gesture.

"So, why did you really come back?" she asked once they released one another.

He lowered himself onto a large, flat rock half-submerged in the water, seeing a little swarm of silver minnows flashing in the sunlight by his feet. "I wish it was just to see you, but the truth is I don't know what to do. I'm sure you know about Karok."

"Sweet girl," Grandmother Lake smiled indulgently. "She hides in my forest sometimes and I make sure her pursuers don't follow. I try to keep an eye on her, but you know my influence only extends half a day's ride in all directions from this place."

"She...um...caught me a few days ago." His embarrassment was eclipsed by the following words as an undertone of distress bled through. "I thought I knew what it was like in Cosium, but she told me about things I never thought could really happen in our kingdom. My father doesn't believe it's as bad as she says. But I do. Everything about her was truthful. I want to help, but how? I don't know what to do."

Silently, she listened as he spoke. Once he was finished she leaned on her cane. "Mortesen, sometimes life can feel like you're wandering through a dark forest with nothing but a tiny lamp to light your way. You can't see the destination or much of the path—only two or three steps ahead at a time."

"Grandmother, please!" he sounded nearly exasperated. "I know you love the cryptic responses, but I really am asking for advice here."

"What do you think this is?" she asked, the suggestion of amusement lighting her eyes. "Your father will never allow anyone to force his hand, and I daresay he's taught you the same. I am only providing you an easier way to understand your choices. You know the goal, don't you?"

He paused. "To make life better for my people."

"Keep your eyes on that, and if an opportunity comes into your little circle of light, you'll have the chance to do something. That's all you _can_ do right now. The day will come when you'll have the power and the ability to do more."

This struck a chord within his chest, causing Mortesen to gaze at the valley's waterfall, completely lost in thought. At last he turned to her, stood, and once more embraced her watery blue form.

"Thank you, Grandmother."

* * *

 _ **That Afternoon...**_

King Negolas stared at his wife, eyes growing dark as an ocean storm. "Priscilla, this had better be one of your jokes."

"Husband, I only received word this morning and I'm just as surprised as you," the soft brown hedgehog protested, standing against the seaside windows of the king's study. "None of the princesses can attend. That's all I know."

Her innocence looked so sincere but Mortesen's truth-telling said the exact opposite. He glared at her, knowing he couldn't say a word about it. She was too good at getting out of difficulties, and he didn't know _which_ part of what she said was untrue.

Negolas glanced at his son with a reluctant sigh. "Mortesen, I know I said you would have the ball, but it seems there's no point if no one can come."

Being sick for over a week during his sixteenth birthday had necessarily canceled the celebration earlier in the year, but to make up for it, his father had promised one that would last three days, ending on the Autumn Equinox. Mortesen shot a glance at the queen whose face was smeared with a false apology. He didn't really care about the party, but letting her get away with sabotaging it irked him.

A wild idea occurred to him. "Father, there may be a way to salvage things."

"I'm listening."

"If the princesses cannot attend, why not throw the doors open to any maidens in our kingdom who are descended from Royalty?" He gave a wide, sweeping gesture, getting excited as the idea took form. "And I don't simply mean nobles. I'd like peasants to get the chance to come too. Any young ladies between the ages of fourteen and twenty."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Queen Priscilla trying not to scoff, but King Negolas appeared to give the matter some thought.

"Since it's a celebration in your honor, I don't see why you can't welcome whomever you choose. If you write up a formal invitation I can have it spread across the kingdom by this evening. Eight days ought to be enough time for anyone who wishes to attend to travel here, even from the borders."

"It will be done within the hour," he said, giving a customary bow and leaving the study.

Negolas turned to his wife. "You are the hostess. Be sure everything is handled accordingly. This foolishness with the princesses was unacceptable."

Queen Priscilla nodded as though ashamed and excused herself in the most humble voice, but the moment she was in the hallway, a sneer distorted her features. Mortesen was only a short distance away and she coughed, attracting his attention.

"Clever. Most clever," she said, sidling up and looking down her nose at him. "Though the purpose of such a _unique_ invitation is beyond me. How irritating that most of the burden of preparations will fall on my shoulders. I suppose you counted on that."

The black hedgehog tried to keep from bristling at her tone. "It is your duty as queen. I hope you're up to the task."

She smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress and gave a smile that had no warmth underneath. "Oh, I'm quite sure I can handle my responsibilities. But that doesn't mean everything won't blow up in your face like a badly-concocted potion. I only hope you can deal with it when it inevitably does."

Mortesen ground his teeth as he watched her sashay down the hall.

* * *

But in fact things might have devolved into chaos before the ball even began if the head cook hadn't been outspoken and not afraid of losing her position.

She cornered Mortesen that afternoon, reprimanding him as though he was a servant rather than the crown prince. After he was made to understand the possible disasters that could ensue if an accurate head count was not given, he admitted such thoughts hadn't crossed his mind. She advised him in no uncertain terms to make sure there was a general figure at least three days in advance, especially if he wanted to avoid eating raw food for a month.

As she left to return to her kitchen, the cook threw one last comment over her shoulder. "I certainly hope you have a plan for where they'll be staying for three or more days."

The realization that there may very well be more than fifty girls coming and that the castle only had twenty proper guest rooms threw him into a flurry of panic. Unconsciously he made his way to the training yard and sat down on a bench, feeling like an utter fool.

"Are you going to sit there moping or do some sparring?"

Mortesen looked up at his friend, Alexei, and gave a wry smile. "Do I look miserable enough to mope?"

"Not really. Just distracted," the skunk amended. He was a regular recruit, about three years older than Mortesen, whose father was a high-ranking captain. Because of his performance in the last couple years it was expected that Alexei would be promoted soon. "You could tell me about it while we practice. Get two things done at once."

"Practical as ever," the black hedgehog noted, proceeding to equip himself with leather armor soldiers always wore for training.

He summarized the head cook's complaint between strokes. Alexei didn't scoff since he knew the prince was likely to get riled if he was mocked, but he ventured another comment after the final words about a place to stay came up.

"How many maidens do you think are likely to cross the country _alone?_ "

Mortesen dodged a thrust and parried. "None, I'd say."

" _Don't_ use Branch in the Storm! You left yourself wide open by blocking too high. Try it again with Cat Dances on the Wall." Alexei made sure the prince was doing the sword form correctly before returning to their original conversation. "Now you see they won't just need accommodations for themselves, but for their escorts as well. Cosium Town only has four inns, and since you asked them to come, it's only appropriate to pay for their boarding. I don't know how you'll manage if too many attend, though."

Mortesen was so surprised that he let himself be disarmed with The Grapevine Twines. "Pay for their boarding?"

"Of course," Alexei said, returning the weapon to him. "I'm also concerned about their animals. Even if most of them can't afford to own horses, I guarantee a lot of them will have _something_ to ride or carry their belongings."

"Maybe it's not as bad as it seems," the black hedgehog said more to himself than to his friend.

With renewed vigor he cast himself into a new attack, sliding past his opponent's defense with Parting the Silk to inflict a "death blow". Alexei grinned at him, recognizing a plan in the works.

* * *

 _ **The Next Day...**_

Athena read the notices in Cosium Town, then she read them again. And one more time for good measure.

"Smart. I wonder if he came up with that himself," she finally said, leaving the town square.

Offering ten silvers to any household that gave hospitality to the visitors who came to attend the ball would keep things from getting out of hand on the first day when every room at the local inns filled up. Plus it would be some extra money in a family's pocket.

The blue hedgehog exited town and noticed fresh-cut lumber being hauled to a clear spot near the river. A corral was already being constructed to house animals for the visitors.

Athena gave a whistle just within the first shadows of the Forbidden Forest and was on Flora's back before the stag could come to a full stop. Her divided riding skirt billowed around her knees as they went bounding homeward. All the way back she thought about the invitation. Was Mortesen truly interested in finding out how many distant relatives he had or was he trying to get to know the peasantry?

 _Or_...was it something else entirely? She considered the exact wording of the invitation and began to wonder.

Once at home, she went around back and opened the cellar. A chest was hidden under piles of collected oddments and she hadn't looked in it since the day she placed it there nearly six months ago.

Athena carried it into the house and slowly traced her family's crest carved into the top. She had avoided this chest for half a year not because of what it contained, but because of the memories associated with it.

When the nobles of Marcuria and their hired army had stormed the castle, slaughtering anyone who professed loyalty to the Crown, she along with her parents, King Garrik and Queen Tryska, had managed to escape with a single piece of luggage. Her grandparents remained behind to throw off their pursuers, and their fates were inevitably painful. Knowing the violent nature of uprisings, they fled to a nearby port town and gave the captain of a merchant ship most of the money they'd brought if he would leave immediately.

Cosium was far enough from Marcuria to avoid the entanglements of politics and old hatreds. Or at least that was the hope.

It being harvest season when they arrived, the only work they could find was in the countryside. Leery of losing their only possessions, they hid the chest in the woods before introducing themselves as Rik, Tryss and Thia to a baron who ran a small wheat-farming town. He was willing to give them a chance, especially at this time when every available hand was needed.

No sooner had they been brought to a small, empty house than a seemingly harmless question about whether they could use magic came up. Before they understood what had happened, Garrik and Tryska found themselves wearing chainless restraint manacles, but Athena was completely ignored, being then fourteen. The indignity of wearing irons was more painful to them than the reason behind it.

A week after moving into the baron's town, Athena couldn't sleep once again because her stomach was still accustomed to being regularly filled. The scanty portions they were given could be supplemented by vegetables Athena used her Nature magic to grow, but since they weren't grown naturally, they had little flavor or nutrition.

A voice attracted her attention in the nighttime stillness. "Garrik, did we make her pretend to be Justus for her sake or for ours?"

Her father didn't speak for a minute as he reflected on this. "I suppose...when it began we simply panicked. I certainly didn't think of anything other than the nobles' comments back when it became known you couldn't have more children. I never considered what was best for Athena. Did you?"

"No. Everything became about making sure she did every single thing right as both herself and Justus—not truly about her well-being at all. The plan was always to pretend he was alive until she could get married, then announce he'd died unexpectedly so that she and her husband could retain the throne. I knew it wasn't right all along and not fair to her, but I didn't care at the time." Tryska's voice grew anxious. "Are we doing the right thing for her now? Here?"

"I _want_ to. She's all we have left." He shifted in the darkness. "How is it I didn't see it before?"

"We were too busy. Too frightened." Athena heard her mother move, manacles clinking slightly, and imagined her hugging Garrik. "Maybe now we can do our best to make up for those mistakes."

"Do you think she'll forgive us, Tryska?"

"...I don't know."

From that day forward she truly felt like their daughter as they stumbled along the path of rediscovering how to love her for herself. She loved them all the more for the effort, and by spring they had grown tight-knit.

Thanks to her strength she could do work with her father, and it was during the winter when they chopped and hauled wood, or later during planting season when they pulled a plow side-by-side and cleared irrigation ditches that they learned more about each other than any time in their entire lives. Athena also knew how much her mother adored roses, so she planted a cutting and "encouraged" it over the span of a few weeks until rosevines starred with sweet, honey-colored flowers hung from the house.

It was a surprise and a shock to see a visitor at their door one evening, especially one with a thick, familiar accent and style of clothing. He was a brown-furred fox who said he'd been searching for them for the past two months because Marcuria was now at war. The current situation was at the tipping point and their country needed a leader.

"I'm here to ask if you will come back," he proposed. "Are you willing to return and take the Crown once more?"

Garrik looked at his wife. Athena never knew for certain what was going through his head...whether the prospect of being restored to his homeland and throne was too alluring, or whether he only thought of his people and his duty to them. In some sad, secret corner of her mind she also wondered if he was reluctant to leave this house where they had found a measure of happiness the castle had never supplied.

"We will go," he answered in the kingly voice Athena remembered so well.

The stranger smiled, but not in relief; it was... _sinister_. "Oh, dear. That really was the wrong answer."

A knife flashed in the candlelight and Garrik jerked in surprise just before it plunged into his chest. Tryska shoved her daughter back and threw out one hand, remembering too late that her manacles prevented her from using magic, but the assassin didn't know that and responded with another knife.

Athena had been so shocked that she let herself be thrown against the back wall, and now lay there staring at her parents as they writhed and gasped on the floor. Blood seemed to be everywhere...

"The nobles can't risk you returning and ruining everything. Marcuria will take over other countries and become stronger without you," the fox sneered down at them. His eyes found Athena. "But there's no point in killing you, 'Prince Justus'. No one would accept you even if you went back."

His words snapped her out of the paralysis encasing her body and she watched him opening the door to leave. Burning anger seared her veins and she screamed, "I won't let you get away!"

She called to the rosevines draped along the house and, because she had put so much magic into their growth, they remembered her without needing physical contact to respond. The fox found himself tangled in a web of clinging, biting tentacles that tightened more and more as he struggled to escape.

Athena scrambled over to her mother, touching the pale orange fur and finding no trace of breath left in her form. A few feet away, Garrik still moved feebly. She hurried to him and felt for his heartbeat, but he slid his fingers around her wrist.

"Papa, I'm so sorry! Was this my fault?"

When he tried to speak and couldn't, she realized there was nothing she could do to save him.

"I forgive you," she whispered, leaning against his fur that was the same shade as her own. "I forgave you for everything long ago. I am proud to be your daughter."

The flicker of a smile passed over his features, soon overshadowed by pain. Garrik didn't die immediately. The assassin had purposely given him a fatal wound that leeched his lifeblood slowly so that it took the better part of an hour before his eyes finally glazed over. By then all her tears had already been cried away.

Athena hadn't realized she'd killed the fox until she had finished wrapping her parents in blankets for their burial. The sight of him, strangled by the vines and bleeding from thousands of thorns, evoked no other emotion than a numb sort of disgust. The guilt and sorrow of having killed anyone at all would come later, after she had mourned for those she loved.

She left everything in the house except for a black cloak belonging to her father, then carried her parents out and set them gently in a two-wheeled wagon. Athena pulled it out of the town that slept while her family had been murdered, stopping to retrieve the hidden chest, and disappeared into the woods.

She never went back.

The chest sat in the middle of the little home she'd made for herself, reminding her of all these things. Slowly she unlatched it and began to take out the items inside, one at a time. Near the bottom lay three dresses folded with care, as they were sentimental. Her mother had brought the one she'd worn when meeting Garrik for the first time, her wedding dress, and one that had been made for Athena's first ball—the event that had led to the discovery of Justus's death.

She stroked the brocade designs for a few minutes, then pulled the dresses out and saw a pair of shoes she hadn't known were there. They had to be her mother's. Athena picked one up and inspected the padded leather covered with white cloth, shimmering in the late evening sunlight, and strung with a delicate webbing of glass beads.

Curious, she slipped it on. Perhaps the year before it would have been too large, but now it fit almost perfectly. She put on the other and walked across the room, instinctively settling into the glide of a princess. She sat down at the table once more, eyes fastened on the dresses.

The blue hedgehog was wrapped so deeply in her thoughts and memories that night fell before she moved again.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Since FF-dot-net apparently hates competition, I'm afraid it's impossible to post a direct link to the picture that has been drawn to promote this story, but all the same, if you do a google search for Karok, LiyuConberma and DeviantArt, (all at the same time, mind you) you can find it. It's definitely worth the effort to see Athena striking a heroic pose with her Mystical. She seriously looks like Sonic in disguise.**_


	3. Those Related to Royalty

_**Chapter 3: Those Related to Royalty**_

The first night of the ball ushered in a wave of girls who entered the castle as quite an interesting group. After giving their names, ancestry and where they were staying to attendants at the door, they filed into the ballroom with wide eyes and trembling legs, sometimes clutching the arm of a sister or cousin who accompanied them.

Mortesen had expected to see hedgehogs since the Royal family had been such as far back as the earliest records, but rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, badgers and foxes came in as well, making up not quite a third of the gathering.

Their clothes were not always new—in fact most were not—but they were clean and free of wrinkles. The dresses all had a hem embroidered with the designs of the girls' native towns and their sleeves all bore a simplified version of the Royal crest: wings on either side of a green diamond.

Mortesen greeted each one as though she was a princess. He knew there was no way to spend time with them all, so he hoped the evening would not be completely centered around him.

Fortunately things seemed to work themselves out. Many of the girls were excited to learn they had so many relatives, distant or not, and little groups formed around those who discovered they were descended from the same Royal family member.

Since there were so many girls and no male counterparts aside from the one who invited them, the music played was more for listening than dancing. The head cook had suggested laying out two long tables of food, allowing the guests to eat at their leisure and without ceremony. A group of mummers in masks began to act out a silent play on a raised dais, attracting a large audience, but Mortesen was occupied for most of the first hour with customary introductions.

When the line of girls dwindled to nothing, he stepped over to the nearest servant who was tallying up the lists. "How many total?"

"So far, sixty-three. There still might be some stragglers, so I'll keep someone here to make sure anyone who's late is recorded properly."

He went over to a set of steps and followed them to the upper hall. A curtained doorway led to one of several balconies that overlooked the ballroom. King Negolas was sitting there with his wife and Rakar, watching the crowd of young ladies below.

"I never expected so many," he commented. "Because most of the nobility were raised to their stations by promotion rather than birth, I was under the impression most of our ancestors' siblings left the country. And these are only the girls in their teens. Just imagine how many other relatives we have out there. I would like to look over the records later and see their genealogies."

Queen Priscilla sat stiffly in her chair, throwing a hard look back at Mortesen. "Yes. I suppose this appears to be an interesting testament to the virility of Royal family members who were not fortunate enough to establish good marriages. It's almost comical."

He clenched his jaw. "It's thanks to that same virility that resulted in your existence, my Queen."

"How good of you to notice." The snideness in her tone was unmistakable.

"Priscilla!" Negolas snapped, seizing her by the arm and giving such a fierce look that she flinched back. "You are insulting **_me_** when you speak that way to my son."

"It was only a jest, Husband," she tried to rectify her words. "My lineage is traced back to the Royal family just as easily as any of these maidens'. If I truly meant what I said, then Mortesen is entirely correct: I would be mocking myself as well."

He released her arm, but didn't soften towards her. Rakar sat on his father's other side, staring at the girls and looking very much as though he was interested in them.

"Come down with me, Rakar," Mortesen suggested. "I'm sure many of them would like to meet you too."

The brown hedgehog shrank back into his chair. The only thing more painful than being ignored was being purposely avoided. And inevitably the whispering would begin.

"No. I don't want to ruin the celebration by making them feel...uneasy. I'm just as happy watching from here."

His older brother placed a hand on his shoulder, understanding the plight he found himself in. "You're always welcome, Rakar. When you feel ready, I'll be waiting for you."

On his way back downstairs, a servant was heading up. When he saw the prince, he bowed and gestured back to the lower corridor.

"Prince Mortesen, a young lady by the name of Thia is here who says she is related to the Marcurian Royal family," the servant said with a certain amount of skepticism in his voice. "I was under the impression that only those related to the Coizard Royal family were admissible."

Mortesen's heart thumped against his ribs and he hurried over to the entrance, hoping she hadn't gotten skittish at the questions and left. Thankfully Athena was still there, waiting patiently for someone to decide whether she could go in or not. She turned as he approached.

"I invited anyone of Royal blood, so you are most welcome."

She looked at him, a certain shyness about her. The dress she wore was vivid green, looped with braided silk that stretched from her waist nearly to the floor, and a brooch of a lily pad with a tiny ivory flower was fastened near her shoulder.

"May I escort you inside?" he asked, offering his arm.

Athena smiled and they walked forward as she said in a low voice, "The invitation was worded in such a way that I felt it was almost directly for me. You're not angry at me?"

"For what?" Then he remembered. "Oh. Well...a little, but I'm more grateful than anything. I didn't realize how different life was for the average commoner. It should have been obvious, I suppose, but I've never been taught to pay attention to anything other than what directly concerns me as heir to the throne." He looked at her dress more closely and said in a thoughtful tone, "You remind me of the story about a frog princess."

Her expression hardened. "Please don't—"

"I swear I'm not trying to mock you. It's just what crossed my mind. Is it Marcurian style?"

"Yes..." she replied, fingering the fabric at her waist. "We brought a few things with us. I thought this might be my only chance to wear them."

"It's very lovely on you, Athena," he complimented, standing back to see it better.

She darted a glance around. "Don't use that name. I've been Thia for over a year now."

"I don't think anyone will notice, but alright. I do like your real name better, though."

They went through the large double doors, entering the castle ballroom, and Athena's eyes were instantly drawn to the four large chandeliers. Instead of candles, they were lit by round moon-crystals imported from the Ice Empire to the north. As the night deepened, they grew brighter with a clear silver light that would only fade as the sun grew closer to the morning horizon. Mortesen started to lead her toward the tables piled high with enough food to easily feed a hundred guests, but two girls materialized in front of them, quite obviously wanting to speak to the prince.

Athena unhooked her hand from his arm, saying, "You have many guests, my Prince. I am only one person."

"Thia, I would like to speak with you. Will you stay?" he asked with some anxiousness.

She gave a secretive smile and shrugged before meandering off toward the banquet tables. Beside him, the two hedgehogs who were so alike that they had to be sisters eagerly waited for his attention.

The one on the right gave a practiced curtsy and started to speak. "Prince Mortesen, we were hoping you could tell us—"

"Is it true the Royal Library has hundreds of books?" the other interrupted, nearly bouncing on her toes.

"I believe it has several thousand." He looked at the disbelief on their faces and nearly laughed. "If you would like to see for yourself, you may visit it tomorrow during the day."

They exchanged glances that said they never expected such an invitation. "Truly? We can come?"

"Of course. And the day after as well, if you wish. If you know anyone else who is interested, they can go with you."

A happy squeal from a nearby circle caused quite a few people to look over. " ** _Anyone?_** Anyone can visit the Royal Library?!"

Excited flurries of conversation sprang up, spreading around the room, and Mortesen began to wonder what he'd unleashed.

"I didn't know so many of you could read. My tutor tells me it's rare for peasants to be educated enough to recognize more than numbers."

The sisters smiled and the older one explained, "Three generations ago when Princess Eilonwy's noble daughter married a commoner, she taught her children to read and they passed it on. I'm sure most of the girls here have similar stories."

"I didn't know that. Is it very useful?"

The girls looked a bit sad. But their prince had asked a question and they had to answer.

"Not often. We don't get a chance to see books except what odds and ends traders might bring on their way through Cosium, and what we happen across when we visit the city on market days. That's why being able to see the Royal Library is such a pleasure."

After a little more conversation, he excused himself on the pretense of having other guests. Mortesen began to pass from group to group, saying a few generic things but mainly looking for Athena. When he was nearly halfway around the ballroom, someone placed a hand on his arm.

"Mortesen, I wanted to spend at least a little time with you before everyone departs at midnight," a hedgehog said, her fur a creamy, butter yellow. Her turquoise green gown was much fancier than most of those worn by the other guests and he suspected it had been made for this occasion.

"Sherry," he bowed politely to his second cousin. Her grandmother had been the only sibling of Mortesen's grandfather. "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and swept her skirts to the side a little as though to avoid a muddy puddle. "Among all this riffraff? You must be joking. I still can't believe the palace guest rooms were closed to me and the other nobles. My room at the inn is far less than sufficient. Was this Queen Priscilla's idea? My mother says she always had a penchant for doing things of a rather tasteless nature."

Mortesen held his head a bit higher. "She had nothing to do with it. I asked for all these girls to be invited. And it would have been considered rude to allow only some guests to stay in the castle while others stayed in Cosium Town."

"Oh!" Sherry looked genuinely surprised. "How very _charitable_. It is rather unnerving, though, is it not?"

"What?"

"Well, with their ties to the Royal family," she said almost too innocently, " ** _any_** one of these girls or their brothers could lay a claim to the throne."

The idea was so unexpected and hilarious that Mortesen burst out laughing, attracting quite a few glances. Once he had gotten over the attack, he looked at his annoyed cousin.

"Oh, Sherry! If they knew _half_ of what's involved in ruling a kingdom they'd stay as far away as they could. I don't envy my father the headaches he suffers, though I know they'll be mine a lot sooner than I'd prefer, and Queen Priscilla is always griping about her duties."

"They don't necessarily understand that, Mortesen," she pointed out, one hand gesturing toward the group of nearly seventy guests. "All they know is that you live in a castle while they live in a filthy home with a dirt floor. Don't you think the throne looks quite attractive from there?"

The words put him in mind of the one-room cottage where he'd been shackled for a day and he sobered.

"Maybe, but I certainly hope they're smart enough to realize the truth. I would like to find someone. I'll spend time with you later, perhaps."

He left, not noticing the unfriendly look on her face as she muttered to herself, "Not everyone worships you and your father, _dear cousin_."

Sherry rejoined the group of about ten nobles who had separated themselves from the rest of the party, fluttering their fans and trying to pretend there were no commoners surrounding them. Mortesen was unable to mingle for very long as he continued going through the ballroom. His eyes kept slipping away from whoever he was speaking to and roving about, intent on finding someone with blue fur. Finally he caught sight of her standing in a corner near the oceanside windows.

Athena glanced up when he came over. "I don't know why you invited all these girls here if you only wanted to see me."

"Are you saying it bothers you for me to single you out?"

"Well, I suppose I appreciate it." She cocked her head slightly. "But I still don't understand why you want to spend time with someone who chained you up."

"You're truthful and not shy about speaking your mind. I like that in you." He paused, shifting slightly as the beginning of nervousness set in. "How...how are the children? The ones that came to your home that day, I mean."

She suddenly looked sad. "One stopped coming. The baron decided to assign her to water-drawing, so the others are helping to get food to her family."

The prince blinked. "But none of them could be older than eight. Why would he do that?"

"Because he can," she said as though it was obvious. "He wants to get more work out of their family since her father is gone, and who is there to stop him? He may be directly answerable to the duke, but that means nothing if **_he_** doesn't care either."

Mortesen looked around and then took her by the hand. Athena let herself be pulled out onto the balcony where there was a certain amount of privacy to be had. Cool air washed over them. He leaned against the railing and stared at the waves far below.

"Is there anything I can do? Some way I can help?"

She shook her head. "Not without attracting attention, and that would put me in danger. I'd prefer to keep doing things as I have been."

The black hedgehog looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Thia, if you are ever in trouble, hide in the Forbidden Forest."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you crazy? Even if I'd never heard all those tales about it, I'd know there's something strange about that place. I keep to the fringes as much as I can and try not to antagonize whatever watches me every time I go there, but I'm not stupid enough to go any deeper."

"I promise you'll be fine. If you're nervous, just say my name and that intimidating aura it has ought to fade away. The forest won't hurt you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Athena stared at him intently. "Maybe there **_is_** something you can do. I mostly try to help the peasants who are oppressed by barons, but there are bands of thieves who like to prey on them as well. I can't always find them before they strike. I can give you a list of the places where they usually are."

"You mean they have to deal with bandits too?"

"And worse," she said, nodding sadly. "Last month one of them found a garden hidden in the woods and waited nearby until someone came to tend it. The girl is lucky I was in the area. If I hadn't heard her screaming she would have been..." Athena's hands clutched the railing tightly, trembling as she tried to hold in her rage. "I just regret that he got away with a few broken ribs and a torn ear, but I was more concerned with the girl. He had been beating her and tore off half her dress..."

Mortesen couldn't think of anything to say at first. "I... I'll do what I can. I really do want to help and protect them."

"I know you do. That's why I came tonight."

The prince stared into her eyes, reminded of a ruby's shine. "I'm so glad you did."

* * *

 ** _The Following Night..._**

The first night had been indoors, so to make things more interesting, the Royal Gardens had been decorated, set up with dozens of benches, and strung with colored lanterns.

As soon as the blood-gold sun sank into a sea of wine, girls came streaming into the gardens, finding their newly-made friends and striking up conversations immediately. An additional thirty or so girls attended, making up almost a hundred guests. A small pen held all the young foals from the castle stables, and the animals were stroked and patted to their content, especially spoiled with apples, carrots, lettuce and other treats that countless maidens provided as they played with them.

Mortesen looked up at the second-story balcony where the king, queen and prince sat watching. He threw them a wave, but only Rakar waved back, and his mother must have said something sharp to him because he dropped his hand and ducked a little. The crown prince began to mingle with the guests, spending quite some time with them before catching sight of Athena.

"Thank you for coming again. Isn't that the dress you wore last year at your ball?"

The former princess looked away, her cheeks coloring slightly. The dress was red to set off the color of her fur and bring out her eyes. It had the same style of looped silken braids, though they were darker than the fabric, and she wore a pearl-colored brooch of a rose.

"I didn't embarrass you, did I?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't remember," she said quietly, touching it self-consciously. Athena glanced around at the crowd. "Was the library filled to capacity today?"

Mortesen shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "I had no idea they would **_all_** come and bring their escorts along. I thought the noise they were making would upset the librarian, but I've never seen her so pleased. I think she appreciated their interest and questions. Some of them kept peering into my study, like they were ogling me. My tutor couldn't stand it after half an hour and canceled my lesson."

She didn't bother holding back the grin. "You can't exactly revoke the invitation now."

The prince walked with her over to a table of food that was decorated with fake, colorful birds. "This is probably the only chance for them to see the Royal Library _ever_. It would be pretty heartless to throw them out just because I'm a little annoyed."

They broke off their conversation as a Fire-wielding entertainer lit a fountain with blue flames. The watching maidens let out pleased sounds as he started to siphon off bits of fire and send them dancing above their heads.

But then one girl, a red hedgehog with black markings, began to laugh. Everyone turned their attention to her.

"I know how you did that! You mixed a flammable potion in the water first. If you did something that simple in Benden Weir, you'd get laughed out of the square! Watch _this_." She stepped forward, shooing the entertainer away, then clapped her hands commandingly at the musicians. "Come! Let's have something less drear, like 'Ringing Along the River'."

After an uncertain pause they began to play a livelier tune and she touched the blue flames. A line of them leaped out and landed on her dress, shifting to red and yellow. She danced to the song while the fire crawled along her swirling skirts. Another hedgehog, most likely a sister, grabbed her hand to join the dance and the fire sprang to her too.

"How do they keep from setting their dresses on fire?" Mortesen wondered.

Athena giggled beside him. "My grandmother was a Fire-wielder. She told me it takes training and concentration to create a heatless flame. They're only using light, not real fire. The fact that they can do it while dancing means they are very advanced for their age."

The song came to an end, prompting delighted applause, even from the entertainer who immediately took them aside and began an animated conversation.

The brief spectacle appeared to be an inspiration for the other guests. Within minutes there were little shows being held in different clearings throughout the gardens.

Some were simple, such as a group molding stones with their hands or a small, controlled whirlwind that carried ribbons and feathers into the air, but others were far more impressive. One young lady made the iron framework of a trellis look just like the vines and flowers that crept over it, and another demonstrated her ability to hear things at a distance she couldn't possibly have heard naturally.

"The wind remembers where it's been," she explained to the others who were testing her. "It carries what it hears for a while and I'm attuned enough that I can catch it."

Most notable was a pair of cousins, one who used Fire to melt a pile of sand while the other used Earth magic to mold it. The hedgehog sweated as glass floated between her open hands, slowly changing into a swan in flight. Athena's expression was one of complete astonishment.

"I've seen a couple glass-makers at work before," she whispered to the prince, "but even using magic they still needed gloves or tongs to form the glass. I've never seen anyone do it with just their will."

Mortesen had to intervene several times to keep the Royal Gardens from becoming a Royal Forest when some Nature-wielders started competing, and later when Earth-wielders nearly got carried away by trying to improve on one of the fountains. But for the most part they were happy to demonstrate to one another on a smaller scale and simply talk about their skills.

"Do most peasants have magic at this level, or does it have more to do with their connection to the Royal family that makes the girls so strong?" Mortesen asked after they had toured the gardens for over an hour. He'd given many compliments, leaving a trail of blushing maidens in his wake without realizing it.

"I don't know. This isn't my country, you know. But I'm sure more Coizards _would_ be stronger if someone trained them," she said, watching a Fire-wielder make a stone glow. "What they pick up is directly from their parents or what they discover on their own. All I've ever seen them use is the magic of their Elements, though. Nothing more academic like binding spells, traps, shields or Alchemy."

They found a more secluded corner of the gardens and sat down on a stone bench. Mortesen didn't speak. He was too occupied with this new information.

"Still, magic has more practical uses than these," Athena said. "I've seen them use Wind for washing laundry and Fire to cook food without a hearth or heat stones during the winter. These girls are mostly just playing to show off how skilled they are."

"I know your Element is Nature," he commented. "We've had to cut plenty of soldiers loose from those giant plants of yours."

Half a smile lit her face and she pulled out a seed that she'd found at the edge of the horse pen earlier. A soft green glow encompassed her hand, then she flicked it to the ground. Long, curling vines sprouted, traveling around the bench. Within a minute, one of its flowers had wilted to be replaced by a bulb, then it grew larger until Mortesen realized he was looking at a pumpkin. It sagged to the ground, continuing to swell until it was as high as their knees, and the prince unconsciously edged away from it. Athena gave a laugh and let go of the vine. Instantly its growth halted.

"It won't taste very good, unfortunately. Magic doesn't have much flavor. I'm adept with flowers, but vines are my specialty. Ivy, climbing flowers, creepers... Beanstalks are most useful as weapons because the seeds are easy to get and they hold the full potential of a grown plant. I can't form them out of pure magic, though. If I don't have something to work with, I can't do anything."

"You know you've inspired my father to hire soldiers who use Nature magic, don't you?"

She blinked, the smile fading. "At least he's learning something from me. Too bad it's not what I'm most concerned about. Do you think he'll ever listen?"

Mortesen leaned back. "Maybe, but it will take time. He'd refuse to be forced into anything."

They looked up at the wide sky speckled with stars, not yet graced by the moon. For a time they didn't say anything, and the silence between them was both thoughtful and friendly.

"Mortesen, what's your Royal gift?"

He stiffened in surprise. "Y-You want to know?"

Only his family and those closest to him knew, so for someone else to ask was either a sign of arrogance or...or desired intimacy. Mortesen was glad his fur was dark so that she couldn't see the heat creeping into his cheeks.

"Uh...truth-telling. When someone speaks I can sense the truth. My father has me stand with him during audiences," he said with a certain pride. "And there's no need to torture prisoners because all they need to do is answer a few questions before I know whether they're guilty—what is it?"

Athena's expression wasn't quite mocking, but he could tell she was ready to laugh. "Oh, really? You know the _truth?_ I'd like to see that."

"Why do you consider it so funny? You don't believe me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You put all your faith in your gift, don't you? I find it both amusing and sad that you use it as an excuse not to think. Suppose you had a Coizard and someone from Hos-Hostigos side by side and asked them if Cosmos or Styphon was the more powerful god? You would get two different answers, but would you really hear the _truth_ or their _opinions?_ "

Athena's words were more teasing than serious, but the possibility seemed to tear the earth out from beneath Mortesen's feet. Not once had he ever doubted the nature of his gift, accepting it as fact that what he sensed was really the truth. But if it wasn't...could he be misunderstanding without realizing it?

He stared, a fearful numbness creeping over his mind.

"It's late," the blue hedgehog said, not noticing the change that had come over him. "I have plenty to do tomorrow, but I'll be back in the evening. I promise."

She was gone before he snapped out of his thoughts, but when he tried to follow, she had melted into the darkness without a trace.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I'd find the prospect of a giant pumpkin growing at my feet rather intimidating too. Here are some specifics about magic to keep things straight.**_

 _ **Elements:**_ In most countries usually only Royalty or nobility are born with the ability to use magic (fire, water, wind, earth, ice, nature, dark, light), but in Cosium most of the peasantry can use it to an extent as well due to the saturating influence of the kingdom's Cosmos Diamond. As children they can't avoid using it and need training to keep from harming themselves or others. Wands can bolster magic and give it focus, but are not necessary for the most part once a person learns full control.

 _ **Academic Magic:**_ Elemental magic comes naturally to those who are born with it, but some things can only be learned through studying.

Alchemy \- Using markings, usually in the Old Speech, that draw on ambient magic. Any physical objects imbued with magic must have writing on them in order to hold a spell.

Non-elemental \- Healing, barriers, snares, hypnotism, long-distance communicating, magical contracts, etc. that have nothing specifically to do with Elements.

Potions \- Mainly related to magic by association since many ingredients are enhanced magically, but technically anyone can become an expert with practice.


	4. The Pain of Truth

_**Chapter 4: The Pain of Truth**_

The stiff smell of parchment and dried ink seemed to fill Mortesen's nostrils and freeze there, threatening to choke him. He stared at his father and Duke Windsor, uncomprehending.

"I...I... You want me to… _ **fight?**_ "

"Mortesen, you are sixteen years old," the king said, leaning against the long table in his private study. "I fought my first battle alongside my father when I was a year younger than you."

"But...this is against our own people, not some other country," he protested. His chair had toppled over when he'd jumped up in shock a moment earlier and he didn't bother to right it. "We're supposed to _protect_ them!"

The duke smiled in something very like sympathy. He had passed on the short, clipped shape of his quills to his daughter, Sherry, but his fur was pale green rather than yellow.

"I know how you feel, young cousin, but sooner or later you will have to take up the sword against living people. It is far better to learn this at your age than later when you are far too set in your peaceful ways. You must understand that sometimes your own people can be your enemies as easily as a foreign army."

"Please... I don't think I can do it. If I kill anyone I'll be making widows and orphans at the same time. I can't stand the thought, Father!"

" _Mortesen_ ," the king's voice was solid rock now. "I want you to understand something: causing death is a horrible thing, but sometimes it is unavoidable. I know you would much rather the soldiers take care of this and you yourself have nothing to do with it, but if you are not willing to do these things, then you cannot morally send others to do them in your stead."

The prince was doing his best to hold back the noises that tried to force their way out of his throat. Vivid images of thrusting his sword into the unarmored chest of some inexperienced, desperate peasant who was only fighting for his home and family flashed into his mind and refused to leave.

"Isn't there another way to keep Sandstone Valley from outright rebellion?" he begged. "Negotiations of some kind?"

The week before, Duke Windsor had expressed some concern for one of the smaller towns in his area because he hadn't heard from its baron in over two months. He sent a trustworthy servant to go observe the town for a day without being noticed. When he returned with a report, the duke immediately brought him to the castle to inform King Negolas.

Mortesen had stood beside his father as the servant described seeing the town in Sandstone Valley preparing itself for an assault, building spiked palisades for the outer walls as well as forging weapons. At the time he'd used his truth-telling and indicated there was nothing false in the report.

"Cousin," Duke Windsor said in a quiet voice. "I didn't want to bring this up before because I did not believe you would approve, but since your son seems so set on another option I cannot keep the possibility to myself."

"Very well, out with it," Negolas prompted.

"I know the vast majority of these villages that rebel are filled with people who will fight savagely if they see your men coming down on them, but they are not soldiers. If they are presented with a flag of peace, they _may_ listen, though it's unlikely—but far more proof that you wish a peaceful settlement would be to bring your wife and young sons along. To them it would be the sort of sentimental thing that would make a much greater impression."

"I do not like bringing my family into a potential battle," the king replied, but there was something thoughtful in his voice too.

Mortesen placed his hands on the table, his attitude now eager and hopeful. "Father, would this not be the most desirable outcome? To avoid needless death on both sides? Even if you did have a show of force, as long as the queen, Rakar and I are there, they may be willing to at least listen first."

Silence dropped over the study as the monarch considered his options. At last he gave a slow nod.

"Very well. Tomorrow at daylight we will all ride out with three squads, but I want another five to follow half a mile behind us. Now Windsor, what were you saying about a shorter route to Sandstone Valley?"

"A deer track, really," he answered, "but it will cut over an hour off your trip. It gets rather narrow when passing above the river gorge, but it is perfectly safe. I've traveled it several times in the past."

While they wrapped up details, Mortesen could barely keep the relief from dragging him down to the floor on limp legs. He picked up his chair and sat down again, then began to sift through some of the letters on the table. Since he would be the recipient of reports and complaints in the future, his father encouraged him to look through them on occasion. He fastened onto one in particular and once the duke was dismissed, he held it out.

"Father, this letter is about the roads that were washed out last month during the rainstorms... That happens at least twice a year in the hill country, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I don't know what they expect me to do from here," he answered gruffly. "The baron who sent that letter is perfectly capable of repairing them himself but he won't do it unless he's forced into it. Stingy rat. I've always had problems with him. 'Can't spare the workers or the resources.' Such rubbish!"

Mortesen moved over to the map that was inlaid into the long oak table and began to trace some of the roads with his finger. "What if there was a more permanent solution? Suppose the main roads were paved, along with the roads to smaller towns? Especially the roughest ones."

"That would be desirable," Negolas said, looking over his son's shoulder at the map, "but to hire professional stone-cutters and get the stone transported... Too expensive, too slow, and too ambitious by far."

"Father, what if you hired Streetkeepers instead of stone-cutters?"

" _Children?_ " The king raised an eyebrow skeptically.

When he began spending more time in Cosium Town, Mortesen had noticed the roving band of youngsters with Earth magic, specifically gifted toward stone. For a few coppers they would repair potholes in the streets and cracks in buildings, though far more often they were called on to fix smaller things like broken crockery.

"Not necessarily. They got their magic from _somewhere_ , didn't they? I wouldn't be surprised if many of their parents or older siblings would be willing to take time off from their regular jobs to earn more money by paving the roads. And because of their magic they could use local stone rather than that from the quarries."

"I don't see how that solves the problem with the washed-out roads."

"Offer compensation if the towns can get workers to pave their road out to the main one. Once it's done, I'll wager they won't have any trouble at all during the rainy season."

Negolas sighed. "If every town joined in on this project I would have to offer them the same arrangement. Our treasury would be empty in a matter of months."

"But that's only if it all happened at once and if the barons were the ones in control of the paving," his son pointed out. He had been considering this very problem. "It could be limited to a handful of towns for the first year and trusted members of the castle staff could supervise as well as pay the workers directly. That way you would be sure barons aren't overworking the peasants or cheating you. It's practically a Royal command that they relieve a dozen or so workers who wish to volunteer. Next year you could choose a different set of towns, and within ten years I'm sure most of the paving will be done except in the most remote areas."

The king appraised his son with a thoughtful gaze. "I suppose you would suggest next that I extend the offer to women too?"

Mortesen blinked, the idea not having crossed his mind.

"After the demonstration last night in the gardens, I don't see why not. And if the girls in our kingdom are that talented, just imagine what their fathers and brothers can do." The king's tone was light, but there was seriousness in his face. "I wonder if it may be beneficial to conduct a census this year, also finding out about magic type and strength."

Something in Mortesen's chest tightened at the thought. There had been four minor rebellions in the past six months. If he did this census, no matter what his real intentions were, it would be perceived as the Crown trying to establish a different sort of control over the peasantry. Things could escalate into violence quickly. But he couldn't find a way to bring this up without insulting his father.

"I also wanted to ask you something, my son." He tapped a folded letter against the table in a businesslike manner. "The past two nights you've spend quite a lot of time with that well-dressed young lady. Rakar tells me she looks familiar to him, but he can't say for certain where he's seen her. Who is she?"

The prince clutched the table's edge, but he tried not to overreact. Did Rakar remember Athena from her ball the year before? Or was it from when he saw a glimpse of her in Mortesen's soul that night after she kidnapped him?

"Her name is Thia. I've...met her before. We get along."

His father sat down in his ornate chair, casting a shrewd look at him. "Mortesen, I hope you're not entertaining any thoughts of marrying. This ball was for your enjoyment—not for your future queen."

"I haven't made any advances on her, Father. But what's wrong with picking any of them?"

Negolas's gaze grew cold. "Do you have any idea what intermarriage with peasantry could do to our family? At least with a noble there's half a chance the Royal gift will appear, as in your brother's case, but I've only heard of _ **two**_ instances in hundreds of years where a pure Royal had a child with a peasant and retained it. We can't have our main bloodline diluted like that. Aside from the nobles, none of those girls are eligible. Keep that in mind."

"I will, Father. But..." This talk of Royal gifts made him think of his own and the gut-wrenching feeling from the night before came surging back. "Is my gift... Am I the first to develop truth-telling?"

"No. I believe it was primarily found in the Royal family of Ayortha. It took three generations to resurface in ours. Why?"

"Do we have any records about its exact qualities?"

"Doubtful." The king saw the set of his son's jaw and wondered why he seemed so troubled at this answer. "But if you would like to send an inquiry to Ayortha, you are certainly welcome to do so. I'm sure you'll receive a prompt reply since you are the crown prince."

"Thank you. I'll do that right away."

* * *

 _ **That Evening...**_

"Where did you find all those portraits?" Athena asked.

She fluttered a hand at the wall where life-sized paintings of the Royal family going back nine generations were hung. Little clusters of girls had gathered in front of them, looking up at their ancestors with fascinated pride.

Mortesen shrugged. "There's an upper hallway in the castle that has every stage of the Royal family all the way back to Cosium's first king. I just had these particular ones moved down here since the maidens are descended from them according to the information they gave when they first came."

"It was also thoughtful to bring in the soldiers. No matter how much they've enjoyed the first two nights, I think all these girls were really looking forward to experiencing a _ball_ , not just a party."

The black hedgehog looked over at the soldiers, mostly cadets, in full uniform and the majority paired off with maidens. He spotted Alexei with one of two skunks who had attended. She was looking more at her feet than him, but his hands kept her steady so that they glided across the dance floor. He seemed to be much more relaxed than Mortesen would have expected.

His grin had a devilish playfulness about it. "You should have seen their faces when I announced in the barracks that I needed over a hundred young, single volunteers to come here and dance with the girls tonight. There were a few who were excited, but most looked like I'd just asked them to run a gauntlet of death."

Athena giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. "It certainly doesn't look that way now."

When Mortesen looked back at the blue hedgehog, he noticed her eyes drifting toward the banquet tables. "Would you like some fruit or pastries?"

A shy expression crossed her face. "It's been a long time since I ate some of these dishes. Pure sugar is expensive and hard to come by in the countryside. The best I can get is molasses, and not very often."

"I'll get you a whole plate of sweets," he promised.

As he was going down the table, picking out what he thought she would like most, he nearly bumped into Alexei coming from the other direction...and doing the same thing. They shot looks at one another's plates and seemed to understand without any explanation.

"So this isn't as bad as you thought it would be, is it?" the prince asked, one eyebrow raised.

Alexei gave the curt nod of a professional soldier. "My expectations were far different from the reality. Trina and her younger sister are quite pleasant company," he said, indicating the two skunks who were giggling to one another halfway across the room.

"Just 'pleasant'?" Mortesen wondered with some skepticism. "It looked to me like you were really enjoying yourself during that last dance."

Bright red touched the tips of Alexei's ears, but he answered without any embarrassment evident in his voice. "Trina said she's never danced publicly, but she knew this would be her only opportunity to do so in the ballroom of Cosium Castle. I wanted to make the experience a good one for her."

"Is that the _only_ reason?" he asked with a suggestive nudge.

The skunk stepped away, giving Mortesen a piercing look.

"I admit she is lovely and I've never met another maiden quite so captivating, but your interest in these affairs is very odd, my Prince. You've never been prone to smalltalk and there is something quite _relaxed_ about you this evening. Have you been drinking too much of that cider? Or something stronger?"

"I'm not intoxicated, Alexei. I've just been enjoying myself for three consecutive nights, that's all," he replied with a cheerful shrug. "Too bad Rakar still won't come and join everyone. I'm sure Thia wouldn't mind meeting him."

"Oh, yes. The hedgehog everyone has been talking about."

The prince went still, not realizing anyone besides his father had noticed him spending so much of the ball with Athena.

" _Everyone?_ "

" _ **Everyone**_ ," the skunk confirmed, adding a sugar-crusted strawberry to the plate in his hands. "The rumors among the servants go that she's some impoverished noble from Marcuria who fled during the war. Is it true?"

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "I'd better get back to her."

Alexei watched him return to the blue hedgehog who seemed intent on keeping to the edge of the ballroom, wondering if the prince was really acting with the proper reserve to keep from leading the girl on. Deciding he could do nothing about it, he rejoined the two young skunks, one of whom tried to keep her blush back as he offered her a cinnamon pastry.

On the far side of the room, Athena accepted the plate Mortesen brought and daintily ate its contents as they listened to the music and observed the dancers. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way her head tilted slightly to the left whenever she was happy and how ever since she'd started attending the ball two nights earlier it always seemed like she was trying not to let a smile out, but couldn't help herself.

The dress she wore this evening was the loveliest of all. Entirely white, edged with feathers and filmy lace , silver threads woven through tiny, dangling chains that were studded with quartz crystals...it made her look like a sterling swan princess. The only thing missing was a matching tiara.

A few minutes later he relieved her of the plate and set it on one of many tables scattered throughout the room, then he gave an uncertain bow, saying, "Would… _ **you**_ like to dance, Athena?"

Mortesen hadn't meant to use her real name, but it popped out.

The smile froze and she stiffened, eyes slowly drifting over to meet his. They fastened on as she stared with an expression he didn't recognize except for a tinge of shock. Wordlessly she lifted one gloved hand and he took it, leading her into the open.

Their feet moved together with the music's rhythm. She didn't look unhappy, but she didn't smile, making Mortesen wonder what was going through her mind. For the first time he noticed her slippers with the glittering glass beads.

"Those are lovely. I don't think I've ever seen shoes like that before."

"My mother's," she answered simply, then pretended to focus more on the steps of the waltz.

It was over in a few minutes, but Athena broke away from him before he could ask her for the next dance. She practically fled to the nearby balcony and Mortesen followed at a slower pace, thinking. The last time she'd worn a fancy dress and danced was at her own ball. Was that what bothered her? But when he'd mentioned it before (especially her handling of Prince Steffan) she had almost been amused.

Then a new thought struck him. Maybe he was wrong, but for some reason he suspected who it was that she was remembering.

The dark hedgehog stepped out of the ballroom's warm light and breathed in the autumn air that almost burned his throat with its crisp coolness. She was just a shadow at first, then as his eyes adjusted he could see the white fabric of her dress, but the slouching shoulders betrayed her disquiet.

"It's your brother, isn't it?"

She spun around, crimson eyes wide. "How did you know?"

"I'm not sure."

Athena swallowed, looking more fragile than he'd ever seen her. "He asked me to practice dancing when we were little...the same way you did. _Exactly_. The words, the inflection, how you bowed...the way you said my name. I thought you _were_ him for a second. It will be ten years this spring." She looked toward the distant horizon forcefully. "Ten years since my parents buried him in some nameless grave as though they were ashamed of him."

A different sort of silence fell between them. One that ate away at their comfort with one another and made the world seem large and empty.

"Athena...what happened to Justus?"

She didn't look at him.

"It was terrible of me to say what I did before. I was angry and wanted to hurt you in some way after you refused to let me go. Now I understand you must have loved him dearly if belittling his memory was that painful to you. I really am sorry."

"...He wasn't just my twin. He was my best friend in the whole world," Athena said, her voice almost deadpan. "We were five. He was hiding and it was my turn to find him. The assassin must have been watching us all morning for an opportunity. When Justus went to a hay barn in the farthest corner of the castle grounds, that badger came out and sealed the door with magic then set the building on fire."

Mortesen couldn't see her face.

"I saw the assassin running just after the fire started. I don't remember what I threw, but it hit him so hard that it knocked him out. Justus...he couldn't get out...he was crying and begging for help... No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get the door open. I screamed until servants came and dragged me away. They couldn't do anything either. Justus burned alive there, alone..."

The pain in her voice was almost tangible. She leaned against the wall near ivy that wound its way through the railing, stroking a leaf with the tip of her finger.

"Later when they pulled his body from the ashes, I pushed them away and wouldn't let anyone touch him—not even my parents. I kept talking to him, begging him not to leave me—that I was sorry for not being strong enough and I'd take care of him forever if he'd just come back."

She stopped, taking several deep breaths. Mortesen started to take her hand but she pulled away with a jerk.

"Sorry," he apologized. His attention was so focused on her that he didn't notice the edge of a shadow just inside the ballroom as someone poised there with a listening ear. "What happened to the assassin?"

"Father made him talk. He found out who hired him and then had the badger burned alive so he could experience the same torment Justus went through. The nobles who were responsible slowly disappeared as my father found ways to orchestrate their deaths while making it look accidental."

"And then you started pretending to be your brother?"

"Yes. Almost immediately. We looked so much alike that it wasn't hard to fool everyone," the former princess sighed, looking more exhausted than he'd ever seen her. "Our mother had such difficult labor with us that a physician had to heal her during the birth. It saved her life, but it was a blind healing and damaged something at the same time. She could never have more children. If the nobles had found out that the only male heir was dead, my father would have been overthrown within a month."

"But how could they keep from finding out? Surely the castle servants knew the truth."

"Well, there's a little-known secret of my family," she said. "Generations ago one of the kings began replacing servants he knew were disloyal with the poorest commoners he could find. Their gratitude and devotion to him was so strong that every king after that continued to seek out those most in need of work, whether or not they were skilled. Our servants didn't care that I wasn't Justus or that I was living a lie. They did everything they could to protect my family."

Mortesen slid his fingers close to hers once more, but didn't try to take her hand. He just brushed softly up against her glove. She didn't move away this time.

"I'm sorry you went through so much."

"The worst part was losing Justus...and nobody mourned him except me."

He tried to find a less painful topic that might pull her out of this sadness. "And your parents are in Cosium now?"

"Only their bodies," she replied morbidly. "Their graves are a short distance from my home. The manacles I used on you are the same ones that were put on my father to restrain his magic after we came to this country. Things could have turned out differently if my parents had been able to use their Elements. Mother might have been able to heal him when...when it happened."

"Oh... I'm—"

" _Don't_ say it again," she interrupted, twirling to glare at him. "I'm so sick of that word! Everyone says the same thing to the point that it doesn't have meaning anymore. That's why I became Karok. I was tired of seeing the misery all around me and apologizing for the way I couldn't do anything to help. My skills made me perfect for the role and I was finally able to make a difference."

Behind them the shadow disappeared, its owner giving a serpent's smile.

For a time they didn't speak because Mortesen couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound like an apology. She was right. There was no point in saying it again and again, especially when he wasn't doing anything about it. The silence went on so long that they lost track of time, but he couldn't find it in himself to break it.

"Mortesen," she said at last, "how did you find me two weeks ago?"

"Oh... My best friend was infuriated when you appeared, declaring yourself to be the legendary Karok," he answered. "He considered it such an insult to the real Karok that he swore to bring you down and reveal you as a fraud. So ever since you first showed up he's been keeping records of—"

Two figures blocked the light from the ballroom, causing Mortesen to cut off. The green stripes on their left shoulders identified them as members of the Queen's Guard, and since they were only answerable to Priscilla he always held them in low esteem. Their faces were impassive, making him instantly cautious.

"What is it?"

"Excuse me, my Prince," one of them said, stepping around him and grabbing Athena roughly by the arm.

There was a heavy click as a manacle closed around her wrist, but she yanked it upward at once, the metal bashing into the guard's nose and throwing him back into the wall. The other tried to capture her, but Athena swung the loose manacle on its chain like a flail, keeping him at bay until she darted forward to drive a fist into his gut. The blow knocked him flat.

Mortesen had stood back, stunned at this attack on his guest as well as afraid to get close while she was fighting. The moment her eyes flew back toward him, he could see the blame in them. The betrayal.

"I trusted you," she whispered. Her hands began to glow with green light and the ivy along the castle's outer wall writhed like a nest of agitated snakes. " _I trusted you!_ "

Vines sprang loose from the stone, wrapping around her protectively. A moment later they carried her away and he ran to the railing, shouting down, "I didn't do it! Athena, please—I swear I had nothing to do with it!"

"Young prince," a voice with false courteousness about it said from behind. "I believe your father has some things he would like to discuss with you about 'Karok'."

Mortesen's fists tightened, the knuckles standing out. Fury sizzled beneath his skin as he wanted nothing better than to throttle her. "You did this, Priscilla. You found out, didn't you?"

She grabbed his shoulder, digging the nails in deep. "You _will_ address me by my title, _boy_."

The black hedgehog smacked her hand away, spinning to face her. "You don't deserve it."

"Nor do you deserve to be the crown prince," she snarled. There was something dangerous kindled behind her eyes now. " _ **I**_ married Negolas first. Amuera was a bargaining chip for a treaty once he was already king—a lesser daughter whose demeanor made her too soft and timid to be a strong queen. She should have been nothing but a _concubine_ , but because she was a Royal he didn't mind marrying her as well. If he hadn't, my Rakar would have been the heir and you'd be living in some distant manor instead of the castle. You're a usurper, Mortesen. You _stole_ the throne from my son."

"That _wasn't_ my decision," he hissed back, hackles rising at the insult against his deceased mother. Mortesen was too angry to consider what might have been going through the queen's mind.

He didn't know the heartache she suffered during the first five years of marriage, and she had lost count of the sleepless nights spent begging Cosmos for a child, even secretly visiting the deity's temple to supplicate.

She'd kept the pain inside, not letting anyone know how useless she felt when Negolas then married Amuera. The fact that his much younger new wife had gotten pregnant within weeks of the wedding made Priscilla herself look like a barren old hag. Three months afterward when she'd excitedly told her husband she too was pregnant, he laughed and made the offhanded comment that if she had managed it earlier, he wouldn't have married another woman. He'd said it as a joke, of course, but she seized those words, using them to fan her resentment of Amuera and Mortesen.

They were practically the same age, and Priscilla believed Rakar had a better claim to the throne since she'd been queen much longer. Unfortunately Negolas didn't see it that way.

"You can still hand the crown over to the son of the king's _real_ wife, but I know you won't. The best I can do is take away any glimmer of happiness from you so that you experience some of the bountiful misery your life has brought to me." She lifted up the hem of her skirts and glided into the ballroom, throwing back, "You'd best hurry to Negolas's study. He isn't precisely pleased with you at the moment."

Knowing there wasn't much choice, he stepped over the legs of the guard who was just beginning to sit up, holding his bleeding nose. None of the girls inside had noticed the commotion, so he passed through them with a fake smile and quick excuses as they tried to thank him for the wonderful time they'd spent at the castle.

All too soon the prince reached his destination.

"Mortesen, close the door."

He did, noticing the way the midnight-black hedgehog stood at the windows with hands clasped tightly behind him. The only time King Negolas did that was when he was trying to avoid shouting.

"Is what the queen told me true? The girl you've spent so much time with is really Karok?"

"Yes, Father."

His father turned, brown eyes smoldering. "Is that what this strange invitation to so many peasants was all about? Finding her again?"

Mortesen stood still.

" _Answer me_."

"Yes," he admitted. "I doubted I could find her on my own and I couldn't invite her directly without making you wonder and ask questions. I needed to hide a leaf in a forest. That's why I asked all those girls to come. _They_ were my forest."

The explanation evoked an intense anger he'd only rarely seen in his father. "You lied to me."

"I never said—"

"You called Karok 'he' even though you knew that _girl_ was the one. Willfully deceiving is the same as lying and you _know_ it." He shoved a book off the table, some loose pages flying out. "I expected you to _value_ the truth since your gift deals directly with it. Of all the people in this castle I never thought I had reason to doubt my trust in you."

"Father, I intended to tell you. I simply needed time."

Negolas scowled. "And how do I know you really mean that or if you are just saying it because you were found out? Do you truly want to betray your kingdom by purposely letting her loose?"

Still simmering from his encounter with Priscilla, these words caused something inside the prince to boil. Being accused of betraying his country when he was really trying to help made all the shame of breaking his father's trust grow pale. Mortesen began to shout, unable to keep his frustration subdued any longer.

"She wouldn't need to disguise herself and raid the barons if there weren't so many injustices that _ **you**_ allowed through your negligence!"

Immediate silence fell. Never in his entire life had he spoken in such a way to his father.

Negolas took three strides forward and backhanded him across the face. The young hedgehog's teeth clacked together as black and neon-colored spots filled his vision for a few seconds. The brief numbness was replaced by a solid ache and there was a silvery taste in his mouth, but he had refused to let himself stumble at the blow.

" _ **Get out**_."

Mortesen gave a stiff bow that had no respect behind it and left without a word.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Seriously, if my teenage kid said something like that to me, I would have done the same thing.**_


	5. Prepare for Unforeseen Consequences

_**Chapter 5: Prepare for Unforeseen Consequences**_

A layer of thick fog hid the ocean from view and disguised the coming dawn, but Mortesen could feel it approaching. What little sleep he'd gotten was fitful, leaving him more exhausted than when he'd stormed into his room after the meeting with King Negolas. But at least it gave him ample time to come to a decision.

He _had_ to find her. Not only to apologize and beg her to understand, but also to find out if maybe she knew anything about his Royal gift. He'd meant to ask her more the night before, but...things hadn't exactly worked out in his favor.

The door clicked open. "Brother?"

"What is it, Rakar?"

Closing the door behind him, the brown hedgehog went over and stood by the bed as Mortesen slipped into an outfit. "I thought you'd come tell me what happened last night, but you never did. Mother pulled Father into the hallway and a minute later he was whispering to her so angrily... When I stepped out to see what was wrong, he took one look at me and forbade her from telling me or anyone else a thing, then he told her to send you to him. You didn't come back and I had to give a speech at midnight to thank your guests for attending the ball."

The crown prince fastened a swordbelt to his waist. He was glad Rakar didn't know about Athena being Karok. King Negolas must have wanted to keep the embarrassment of the entire situation as minimal as possible.

"Thanks for taking care of that for me. Father...Father found out I was keeping something from him. I just didn't feel like going back to the celebration after that."

"You kept a secret from him? It must have been something important for him to get that upset about it," Rakar said in a surprised tone.

"Don't ask me what it is. Not yet. Just go down to breakfast with everyone else."

"What do you mean?" the other demanded. "You're supposed to be going to Sandstone Valley with us today, but I know that stubborn look. You want to do something different, don't you?"

He didn't want to lie anymore. It was painful enough knowing how betrayed his father felt at finding out, but lying to Rakar too was painful in a different way. With the exception of knowledge about Grandmother Lake, he'd never kept anything from his younger brother until now.

"I need to go see Karok."

Instantly Rakar grew angry. After everything Karok had done, how could he want to meet him?

"Mortesen, don't go. You can't trust any thief—especially one that wears a mask."

"I need to. He said something about my gift. I want to find out the tru—" He cut himself off, choking on the word. After a split-second he finished, "I need to see him."

He started toward the door and the brown hedgehog grabbed his arm impulsively. " _ **No**_."

Mortesen froze. At first Rakar thought it was because he'd made an impression on him, but then he realized his brother was struggling to move and couldn't speak at all. He let go with a startled jerk and the other staggered away from him, gasping.

"What did you _**do?!**_ " he shouted, full of rage.

Rakar looked at his hand as though it had transformed into a viper. "I...I wanted to stop you. I didn't take your soul—I only brushed up against it. Brother, it was an accident!"

Mortesen forced himself to calm down, knowing Rakar never would have done such a thing to him on purpose without permission.

"We'll talk about it when I get back. You can go with Father and Priscilla to Sandstone Valley. It's too important to find Karok."

"But _why?_ What's wrong with your gift?"

The crown prince ran a hand along his arm. No, it wasn't the main reason he wanted to find Athena, but there was nothing else he could say that would make sense to Rakar.

"...Karok is the only one in my entire life who questioned my truth-telling. He was right. Whatever my gift is, it's not about sensing lies. I can't trust it completely until I understand. I'll see you tonight if you're back by then."

His younger brother didn't try to stop him again, but he watched Mortesen leave with a sense of loss he couldn't fully describe. It was as though his best friend was turning away from him, just like everyone else.

Mortesen hurried to the stables, bypassing the separate one for Kodom lizards. The weather was beginning to get cold and some of the reptiles were already growing sluggish. His favorite horse nickered a greeting as he came in through the side entrance. He grabbed a blanket and saddle from the tack room, then looped the bridle over his shoulder.

"No time for brushing, friend," he apologized as he entered the stall, "but I've got to get out of here right now. The last thing I want is to—"

"Get caught?"

Mortesen spun around, dropping everything. His father was in the stall's doorway, surveying his son with a penetrating gaze. For a minute they simply stood there without speaking. The horse didn't understand what was happening, so it began to nibble at the hay.

"Do you believe," the king began slowly, "that I struck you last night out of pure anger?"

He gave a single nod, unable to clench his teeth because of the bruise on his jaw.

"That was part of it, I admit. But more than that, I was trying to bring you back to your senses. Can you see how your association with that girl has changed you? Two weeks ago would you have ever considered saying such a thing to me?"

Mortesen looked down and shook his head.

"Then why are you acting so...different? Whatever influential magic she used has made you callous and rude toward those you once respected. Son, can't you see this isn't _you?_ "

"Father...she did nothing." Mortesen had to think before more words would come. "I made the choice to listen to her that day when she caught me. I never realized until then that I had been taught to ignore commoners. Everything changed after that, and not suddenly. Step by step I tried to watch and listen, to understand. And I did it of my own free will."

Negolas started forward but when he saw the younger hedgehog tense, he stopped. Another minute of silence ticked by.

"I know I can't force you to think the way I do. I've tried my best to raise you with the values and priorities that I learned, but ultimately you have to make the decision of whether to follow them. At some point I will step down from the throne and let you take my place. When that happens, I know I will have no say in how you rule, so I suppose I'd best get used to the idea that we are not exactly the same now." He turned away so that his last words were hard to catch as he left the stable. "I am proud of you, but that doesn't mean you don't disappoint me on occasion."

Mortesen saddled the horse, squelching the feeling inside that said he should go after King Negolas and explain everything in full.

No. He'd find Athena first, and once things were right with her, _then_ he'd go back to his father.

* * *

Sleep refused to come. It was still dark when she gathered the things she needed and stepped outside, calling to Flora.

Athena let the stag decide where to carry her. All morning they walked first one way then another as the Mystical meandered along some aimless path. While daylight began to creep into the sky, an ocean of mist spread out before her. The hedgehog's eyes were drawn to the hilltops rising up like hazy islands around her. She didn't recognize anything. And she didn't care.

How could she have been such a fool? The gentlemanly talk and the respectful way he treated her...all to let her guard down and find out everything he could about her.

Why had she fallen so easily into such a trap? Was it because she thought he really was someone worth falling in love with?

He never would have truly considered marrying her anyway. She had no kingdom. No political power. No connections. No wealth. Everything was against her and she'd let her romantic sensibilities blind her to the very real fact that it would never happen.

" _Athena, please listen,"_ her mother's voice echoed in her head, evoking images of a lavish bedroom scattered with bolts of material, one of which would become her ball gown. _"I don't want you to wind up like my sister. She let herself be dazzled by the attentions of a noble who only wanted her for her status. Once she realized the truth, it was too late, and now she is a sad, lonely creature trapped in a miserable marriage. Take great care in giving your heart to anyone before you know what he is truly like. It can deceive you as often as it can lead to happiness. I knew Garrik to be honorable and his reputation was impressive, even for a prince. I accepted his proposal and we grew into love much later. It was far sweeter that way for us both because our relationship was grounded on respect for one another instead of only our feelings."_

The memory faded as Flora let out a friendly snuffle. He'd spotted a herd of does grazing in what looked like a little cove below, bits of watery mist licking their hooves. Athena got off and gave the stag a light slap on the flank, encouraging him to go socialize for a while. Watching them touch noses and exchange wordless introductions in the way of deer, she pulled a bulging sack from her shoulders.

Setting it at the base of a tree, the blue hedgehog took out a spade and began to dig. There was no hurry. She didn't care how long it took.

A pile of loose earth took form as the sun crested a high hill in the east and dried up the sea of fog. Chilled morning light filtered through the treetops and sent up new waves of evaporating steam, leaving a wet, icy smell behind—the promise of winter yet to come. Every now and then she stopped her digging to think and sit staring into the valley below. Flora had wandered off with the herd, but she didn't worry about that.

Athena finally looked down at the hole, realizing it was far deeper than necessary. But that suited her well enough because she wanted to bury her idiocy in a bottomless pit. The bag's flap opened, revealing three elegant dresses stuffed inside. One after the other, they each made their way into the little grave of naïve hopes.

The first spadeful of dirt that stained the icing lace of her mother's wedding gown crunched down on Athena's innards with solid jaws, but she forced herself to continue. By the time the hole was filled, a hard callus had formed over her passions.

She wouldn't let herself feel the ache any longer. Not for the life she lost in Marcuria or the life she'd stupidly entertained she might have with _him_.

She whistled a signal to Flora, reaching for the empty sack...only to find it was not empty. The shoes were still inside. Athena pulled them out, staring at their glass beads. She was too emotionally drained by the digging to even consider doing it again just for these. Far better to toss them into a river somewhere.

But... Her eyes took on a sad longing. One black boot slipped off, then the other. The slippers molded themselves to her feet, fitting so neatly. So perfectly...

She was Thia and Karok. Why couldn't she be Athena too?

Flora bounded toward her, antlers thrust high in the air and nostrils quivering as he came to a skidding halt. Athena stroked the deer's muzzle, looking around in alarm.

"What is it?"

The stag twisted his head back in the direction he'd come, brown eyes large and fearful. At just that moment Athena heard a series of shouting and a woman screamed in terror. It wasn't far.

Knowing her Mystical would be no help in a fight, she left him there, dashing toward the noise. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground as she sped through the trees.

She came to a cliff overlooking a path alongside the dry river gulch. A group of soldiers were fiercely defending three people at the center, but they were outnumbered two to one by a horde of bandits, and by the number of bodies already scattered about the small clearing, they had been caught unprepared. Within moments there were almost no soldiers left to protect the trio.

Then the blue hedgehog realized with a jolt that it was the Royal family!

The cliff was too steep and she couldn't see any way down, so she dug into her green pouch and yanked out a fistful of beans, hand glowing.

"Grow!" she shouted, throwing them as hard as she could.

The moment they touched earth, long shoots burst up and out, seizing hold of anything and anyone close enough. One of them fell short, dropping right beside the king and wrapping its long tendrils around his horse's legs. The animal panicked and King Negolas fell off as it tried to break free.

"No, no!" Athena gasped, covering her mouth. Once they left her hand she had no control over them.

She had to get down there! Scanning the surrounding area, she noticed a sloping runoff for rainwater a short distance away. The blue hedgehog took off for it at a dead run, tying her black mask on and thankful that she had the presence of mind to bring along her hat that morning, but there was no time for the quill-cover.

Loose rocks skittered away beneath her feet, making the trip down more of a barely-controlled slide. She had no idea how long it took to reach the bottom, but she was nearly there when a sudden scream from the queen was severed—her voice silenced forever.

When she plowed into the group of bandits, the attack was so unexpected that Athena was able to kill three before they realized what was happening and began to fight back.

She felt a wind at her back, took a deep breath and held it. One hand jammed into her second pouch, then cast powder up into the air. The crushed flower petals were inhaled by her enemies and they collapsed around her, leaving only four unaffected. Three of them exchanged looks and fled, but the fourth was completely oblivious.

His attention was directed toward the prince lying on the ground in front of him. Half Rakar's face was dripping blood and his sword had been knocked a few feet away, red along its length. The angry weasel standing over him glanced at his own hand, clenching and unclenching it as though there was something wrong.

"What did you _ **do**_ to me?!" he shouted.

Rakar gave a cocky smile through the blood, then laughed in a derisive way. "Your wife hates you. That's why you're here—to earn money in an attempt to please her. Did you really believe it would make a difference in her feelings toward you?"

"Shut up!"

Athena ran him through as he raised a double-bladed dagger to kill the prince. When she looked down at the only survivor of the slaughter, Rakar was staring up with a dazed look in his one good eye. A second later the loss of blood from his head wound overcame him and he slumped forward.

The remaining bandits who had been caught by her beanstalks struggled and cursed as they tried to get free, but above their noises she detected rapid hoofbeats. Many of them.

Athena grabbed one of the riderless horses that hadn't known what to do without its passenger and swung aboard. A kick restored its sense of purpose and it took off along the path away from the approaching soldiers. They would take care of the prince. Maybe Mortesen was with them, but she didn't want to wait and find out. Or ever see him again.

She was spotted fleeing the scene, but the castle soldiers were more concerned with the carnage in front of them.

"Get any healers we have over here!" Captain Stripeback shouted. "Check for survivors! Alexei, search the perimeter for any evidence as to how they were ambushed."

"Yes, Sir." He saluted his father, fist to chest, and urged the steed forward.

Being one of the best trackers in the garrison, he was usually called on for such things. His dark violet eyes scrutinized the area, finding the shielded corner where some of the attackers had hidden until the king and his vanguard had passed. He could see footprints of more who had come around the blind bend ahead as well; a pincer movement that cut off their retreat and forced them to take cover against the steep hillside.

There had been about twenty-five bandits, several more than the number of guards with the king, and they had whittled down their victims to nothing within minutes thanks to the element of surprise.

But the beanstalks and the figure that had ridden off at their approach... Alexei knew without a doubt Karok had been here. But why he'd caught the bandits with his giant plants didn't make sense if he was after the Royal family.

He got off his horse and inspected something at the base of a slope that led to the cliff overhead. How odd. How very, very odd...

* * *

 _ **That Evening…**_

Prince Mortesen slouched in his saddle, dispirited by a fruitless and most likely _pointless_ search. The sun was perhaps an hour from setting when he returned to Cosium Town. He got off the horse to stretch his legs, leading it with a listless hand along the main avenue.

Then someone's sobs reached his ears. Not just one, but several. No... _many_.

He hurried forward, wondering what could have happened. In the square, over a dozen women were wailing along with their little ones. A large group of people was gathered there around them and every single one looked distraught.

"What's wrong?" he asked a little fox who couldn't be older than five.

"Papa's gone," she answered as though not believing it. "The captain said he died trying to protect the king. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe Papa just got hurt."

The reins slipped from his fingers as Mortesen's heart shrank to the size of a walnut within his chest. He couldn't breathe. Then his feet carried him toward the castle without fully realizing it. He flew over the bridge and through the main gate, ignoring the words of soldiers and servants alike as they recognized him.

His father. He had to get to his father!

Once in the courtyard he gave an instinctive leap, transforming into a current of rushing wind and surging straight up to the Royal Wing. Mortesen recovered his form in the hallway just inside an open window. The amount of energy it drained sent him tumbling forward nearly onto the guard stationed a few feet away.

"My Prince!" the mongoose cried, dropping his spear to catch him before he could fall.

Mortesen forced his head up and one hand stretched toward the Royal Chamber. "I have to see him..."

A gauntlet descended on his shoulder from behind. Alexei's father, Captain Stripeback, stood there impassively, then helped ease the prince onto his steadying feet.

"I will take you in, Prince Mortesen," he said.

Keeping one hand on the young hedgehog's elbow, he guided him to the door. They stepped inside and it shut behind them. A figure was on the bed atop the covers. No signs of healers or bandages anywhere. He drew closer and realized there was someone else lying beside his father.

Priscilla.

The fact that she was here rather than in her own chamber thrust the reality of the situation onto him before he'd taken another step.

Mortesen's legs betrayed him. He fell to the floor face-first, words pouring from his mouth in an unintelligible stream. Scraps of memories and partial thoughts swirled through his head amid a storm of regret and sorrow. And behind it all was that last sight of his father, those final words between them...

At last the sobs subsided enough that he could wrestle strength back into his limbs. The captain had remained by the door, wise enough to know he would be no help during this display of grief.

Mortesen made himself approach the bed. They still wore the clothes they had died in, filthy with dirt-crusted bloodstains. Their faces were limp, expressionless. He stared, knowing he ought to have been with them. Would things have been different if he had done his duty instead of chasing after the shadow of a girl who didn't want to be found?

"Rakar?" he asked in a croak.

"Alive."

Mortesen shoved past him and stumbled a short distance down the hallway, entering his brother's room before the two guards there could open the door for him. The familiar wave of dread that always surrounded Rakar spilled over him. The young prince lay on his bed, white bandages swathed over the right side of his face. He stared blankly upward at the deep green canopy.

"Little Brother?"

Rakar blinked, his good eye traveling slowly over to find him. There was an emptiness in that gaze as he whispered hoarsely, "Weak... I'm so weak...couldn't stop them..."

Mortesen swallowed, wishing he had something to relieve his sore throat. He had to show a brave face for his brother's sake. No sooner had he gone over and touched Rakar's hand in a gesture of comfort than tears began to run down the brown hedgehog's bare cheek. Then Mortesen was crying too.

They clutched one another, united in their suffering.

* * *

 **A/N: There is just something about this side of Rakar that really makes me tear up right here. As for the chapter's title...anyone out there a Half-Life fan?**


	6. The Vigilante's Plight

_**Chapter 6: The Vigilante's Plight**_

Alexei Stripeback didn't need to check his records but he did anyway out of habit. Once more flipping to a hand-drawn map near the back of a little book, he tapped a set of paths. At the beginning of every month Karok was always seen raiding the baron in Two Rivers, and before that he was around Mossflower Village.

There were three known paths to cross the hills between the two towns, but this was the most remote and least-traveled.

The skunk snapped his book shut and placed a hand on the head of Eoduin, his Mystical hound that was half-wolf, then looked around at the towering pines that had been his companions for two slow days, and now the beginning of a third.

His father had only granted him leave for a week because he had assured him that he knew where Karok would be and was absolutely certain he could catch the thief. Tomorrow would be his last chance before he had to start back.

Still, heavy guilt pulled at him to recall he was missing the king and queen's funeral this day for what very well could be a futile mission. Mortesen needed a friend right now more than ever. But he also needed closure, and that's why Alexei had made the choice not to stay at the castle when he had a narrow window of opportunity.

None of the bandits in the dungeon knew who hired them except for their leader, and he had been killed during the attack, his body shoved unceremoniously into a ravine afterward. They cursed Karok's name and refused to say anything else, so it was obvious they weren't in league with him, but all the same...

He had picked this place along the trail because it had a sharp bend making it hard to see anything until a traveler was nearly on top of it. Only three times in the last two days had Alexei moved the blockade to allow people to pass through, intensely grateful that once they recognized his uniform they decided not to ask questions. The first day had been difficult after he'd set the trap with a set of magical snares he'd learned recently, especially since he wouldn't have had the energy to fight Karok if he'd appeared right away. Only his hound's constant vigilance made him confident that the vagabond wouldn't be able to slip by during the night.

Alexei's thoughts were broken by Eoduin's warning growl as she detected someone on the path ahead. He rose to his feet to see who it was and half a minute later a deer bearing a rider stopped at the sight of him, throwing its head back in alarm. Athena was surprised, but she didn't flee immediately.

"Karok, I have a message for you," Alexei called, gripping his spear rather than sword as he stepped past the blockade. "Cosium can no longer suffer you to roam freely. This is your only chance to surrender."

Athena said nothing. She simply had Flora turn around. Having anticipated such a response, the skunk dropped to one knee and touched a cord half-buried by the dirt, whispering words he had practiced so many times that he could nearly say them in his sleep.

Magic slipped along its length until the net at the far end sprang to life, stretching itself between the trees on either side of the path.

The stag pranced uneasily, not liking this in the least. His rider didn't look back, urging him to run for the woods now that the trail was barred. Flora had just dived into the early morning shadows of the trees when he sensed something wrong and pulled back, but not soon enough.

Sticky, invisible strands of what was most easily described as a spiderweb tangled around his head and forelegs. He struggled madly but couldn't get loose, the kicking and bucking only serving to get him more thoroughly caught as well as dislodge Athena. She tried to calm him, but the poor stag was out of his mind with panic.

"I will release it," Alexei said behind her. "I don't enjoy tormenting creatures. But I'm afraid it will have to wait until our business is complete. No sense wasting time."

"I suppose not." She straightened, hand on her sword hilt and voice once more somewhat masculine. "You went to quite a lot of effort for this moment. I'm almost flattered."

Their weapons met, her blade glancing off the metal-plated shaft in a failed attempt at Swallow Rides the Air. She dropped into a crouch and then darted forward with The Lion Springs, but it did no better.

Alexei fought more as though he was using a quarterstaff than a spear and the hedgehog found herself pushed back by his skills and the unfamiliarity of fighting against this weapon. He always seemed to meet her sword in just the right spot or deflect it in such a way that every strike was rendered powerless.

Deciding this duel was getting too risky, Athena focused. A second later her blows came faster and more forcefully, sliding from one sword form directly into another. Alexei was surprised by this new strength. His footwork became less fluid and at times he skidded trying to keep his balance when she struck especially hard.

With more confidence she noticed the skunk was entirely on the defensive, backing up and side-stepping as she gained ground.

Alexei risked a glance rearward and saw that he was nearly against the wide netting across the path. Nervous sweat made its way down the side of his face. Athena gave a smile, beginning a swift technique, Black Pebbles on Snow.

Unexpectedly Alexei slipped under her guard with more speed than he'd shown thus far. She tried to twist aside, but he was too close. The butt of his spear flew up directly toward her face, cracking into the jaw and cheekbone. Before she could recover, he was behind her and a solid kick sent her flying into the net.

The threads were strung taut, and the second she bounced into them, they contracted. Like a snare, the entire net snapped inward and folded itself around her.

Alexei stood there watching her struggle until she realized it was useless. Even her strength could do nothing against the rubbery material that had effectively trussed her up. With an irritated noise she let go of her sword. He untangled it from the webbing and slid it into his belt, then took hold of her feet without any sign of gloating. After dragging her all the way back to his small camp, he pulled a flask from his satchel.

"If you want me to cut you out of that, drink this. Otherwise it will be a long, uncomfortable trip wrapped up in there."

"What is it?" she asked, suspicious.

"A potion that deadens all feeling in the body. You'll go limp and probably unconscious, but it will wear off tomorrow and leave no lasting effects."

"Bite my tail!" she growled, her fingers finally managing to grab one of the pouches at her waist.

Beans spilled onto the ground and burst outward, tendrils reaching straight for the skunk. Before they could touch him, there was an explosion as lightning shot out from his hands and fried them. It briefly arced to Athena and she couldn't keep back the scream of pain and surprise.

If she'd known he was a Lightning-wielder she wouldn't have been foolish enough to attack until he had his guard down. When she opened her eyes again, Alexei was staring at her with something akin to disgust.

"Your voice gives you away. I didn't want to believe it. I really didn't."

He reached down and grabbed hold of her left boot, yanking it off. Her irate cry went unheeded and he pulled something out of the bag at his side. Athena's eyes widened at the sight of her mother's slipper...the one she had thought lost after fighting the bandits that attacked the king. She'd wondered where it went, but didn't care enough to go searching.

"A perfect fit, _Thia_ ," he muttered with no triumph, staring at the shoe on her foot. Alexei swiped it off and threw it back into his bag, pulling savagely on the cord. It was clear he also recognized her from the ball. "You're a disgrace to the name of Karok."

"Male chauvinist pig!" she screamed, thrashing in the net simply because she had no other way to express her anger.

He turned on her, violet eyes blazing. "I don't see how expecting someone who spoke, dressed and acted like a man to actually _ **be**_ a man is chauvinistic. I _respect_ women. That's why it hurts me that I had to force you into this position. It makes me look like an ill-bred cad. I don't suppose you have a dress to change into."

She spat at his feet, too mad to give a response with enough insults she felt he deserved. He ignored the rude gesture, simply signaling to Eoduin who obediently came and stood beside the net. Athena watched him walk away, feeling dirt and pebbles cling to her sweat-dampened fur and wishing she could move enough to wipe them from her face. He went along the path, touching the spaces between the trees. All the invisible webs he'd set up dissipated. Flora darted into the pines the moment he was free. When Alexei returned, he appeared less upset and spoke in a calmer manner.

"I'm not accusing you of disgracing Karok because of something you can't help, like your gender. I say that because of what you do." He began to dismantle the blockade. "Karok is my idol. He helped the peasantry only enough to the point where they could do things on their own. He never went beyond what was absolutely necessary. _You've_ been making everyone dependent on you, and it's an unsustainable position since you can't keep that role forever. That's the difference."

Athena gave a spiteful glare. "They're dying in front of me and you think I should stop helping?! Do you even _know_ what they go through?"

The skunk glanced her way, shoving one last pine branch onto the side of the path. "Of course. If my father hadn't been such a good soldier, our family would still be in Ruatha working under Baron Jaxom. But the only way to truly enact any real change is by going to the top. My father worked nearly seven years before he gained the rank and respect that put him into King Negolas's good graces. Sometimes the things he's said made an impression on the king, but it had to be done carefully. It just takes time."

"The people don't _have_ time. I dig graves every week!" she shouted. "I was able to show Mortesen the truth in a single day and what do you and your father have to brag about after years of effort?"

Alexei clenched his gloved fists, growing so angry that his thick tail bristled up. "You're an _idiot girl!_ Don't you realize that plan could have backfired more easily than it succeeded?! The only reason Mortesen listened is because his mother taught him compassion! If you had tried that with any other member of the Royal family, the retribution for such a thing could have condemned thousands of peasants to death or slavery. Is _that_ what you wanted?!"

She said nothing, watching as he picked up the flask with its potion again and walked over. He jammed the opening against her teeth and shoved her head back.

"I wish I could trust you enough to avoid this, but I know I can't. My horse is fully rested. If I leave now and ride all night, I can have you at the castle by dawn tomorrow."

Athena suddenly realized what being caught meant. She would be taken to the castle dungeon, chained up helplessly, maybe tortured—and Mortesen would be there! She tried to spit out the liquid, but the muscles in her mouth refused to cooperate. Her fingers dug into the earth as she did everything she could to fight the lack of feeling that spread downward from her throat.

"NO!" she tried to scream, but it came out an incoherent shriek as her tongue went numb. _'Don't let him see me...'_

The vivid trees overhead turned into sharp green spears thrusting themselves into a blue sky that darkened unnaturally, then there was nothing.

* * *

 _ **The Following Morning…**_

Sunlight had barely begun to touch the castle's upper towers when Alexei came within sight of it. The prisoner lying across the saddle in front of him shifted and muttered, but she was in no position to cause any trouble yet.

He reached forward, tucking his cloak more tightly around Athena's shoulders to keep back the morning chill, then gave a convulsive shudder, wishing once again that he'd brought a second. At least it was finally beginning to warm up. The night's ride had been difficult and uncomfortable.

At the same time in the Royal Wing, Rakar was trapped in a dream that had replayed in his head countless times since the attack. No matter how hard he tried to repress the memories, they always surged back when he was most vulnerable...

 _Soldiers were dying all around him, fully taken by surprise and hemmed in on both sides with no retreat. Rakar could barely control his horse as the scent of blood filled its nostrils and death cries came from every direction._

 _King Negolas shouted at his family to dismount. Priscilla slipped down and dragged her son off his nervous horse, pulling him against the cliffside and ducking to the ground. The king's steed angled in front of them as he raised his hands, a compressed windstorm gathering there. But before it could gain enough strength for him to direct it at their enemies, plants sprang up everywhere, grabbing hold of the bandits. One seized his horse and it reared, throwing Negolas to the ground. His ball of hurricane winds shattered, flying everywhere in aimless bursts._

 _The plants stopped growing and the bandits who hadn't been snared by them approached. One stomped a boot down on Negolas's upper arm as he tried to regain his feet. A sword tip dug into his back, its owner smiling with peculiar mirth._

" _Is the mighty king going to beg for mercy?" the weasel laughed._

" _Only if you swear to release my wife and son," came the answer, his pride still evident. He was willing to humiliate himself, but not pointlessly._

" _No promises." His voice was almost taunting._

" _Then you'll get no such satisfaction out of me,_ _ **vermin**_ _." Negolas flinched as the sword bit deeper, but he refused to cry out. Instead he twisted his head to look at his family. "Rakar, get your mother awa—!"_

 _He got no chance to say anything else. Priscilla grabbed Rakar and wrapped her arms around him, hiding his face in her wide, draping sleeves to keep him from seeing it. But she couldn't block his ears. The sounds of his father's fingers tearing at the loose rocks and the gurgle of his last breath half-choked by blood seemed to fill the air all around him, so loud that it seemed to echo everywhere._

 _Nasty laughter pulled him out of the paralyzed stupor. His mother's whole body trembled around him._

" _Fade away," she whispered into his ear. "You can do it, Rakar!"_

" _You know I can't!" he protested, voice cracking._

 _He could hardly do anything with the Dark Element he'd inherited from Priscilla, much less a third-level technique like diffuse his body into shadows. Even she didn't have enough power to do that._

" _You have a king's blood in your veins. You're stronger than you think you are, my darling._ _ **Try!**_ _"_

 _It was the first time in his living memory she'd ever called him anything other than "Rakar" or "son". He looked up, seeing tears on her frightened face. Every trace of the stern, aloof queen was gone._

 _But filthy hands tore her away from him and the mockery of their attackers melted into a stream of blurry words he couldn't seem to make any sense of until the weasel stabbed her through the heart, cutting off one last desperate cry for her son to flee._

 _Rakar couldn't think. The world had gone grainy so that the blood that dripped down his mother's buttercup-yellow dress looked like thick, clotting sand._

 _Above her still body, the weasel flippantly gestured to the others and said, "Who wants to kill the runt? I earned my pay today."_

 _ **You're stronger than you think you are, my darling…**_

 _He reacted on pure instinct as a gray rabbit sprang forward with barbarous malice in his eyes. Ducking under the thrust, Rakar grabbed the bare arm above him and used his gift. Without warning the bandit dropped to the ground in sudden weakness. It was a simple matter to disarm him and use the rabbit's own weapon to slit his throat._

 _ **You're stronger than you think…**_

 _For an instant no one moved. Then another bandit stepped forward, striking out. Rakar did the same thing to him. Surprise and confusion sifted through the faces of those looking at him._

 _ **You're stronger…**_

 _Now the brown hedgehog dove in among them, his movements almost growing mechanical as he blocked, touched and stabbed over and over. Their loss of strength that accompanied having half a soul ripped away gave him plenty of opportunity to kill before they had time to recover._

 _ **Stronger…**_

 _He could feel the power pouring into his body with every theft, making him almost giddy with a strange, spectral drunkenness he had never experienced before. Now fear passed over their faces just before he delivered their deaths._

 _Then a force caught him along the right side of his face, searing fire that threw him back—though not before he managed to reach out and touch his attacker's fingers. Rakar landed on his back, stunned and breathless and feeling nothing but white pain from the eye he could no longer use._

" _What did you_ _ **do**_ _to me?!" the weasel shouted, staring at the hand the young prince had touched. He was resisting the weakness that tried to pull him down to the ground._

 _But Rakar was crazy with grief and almost intoxicated by the strength he'd stolen. In his hand he could see so clearly what was foremost in the weasel's mind...how much he adored his beautiful but haughty wife, and the way she spurned his every effort to make her happy. In that moment he knew the very words that would cause this bandit the most pain, so he said them, thinking in another few seconds he would be dead anyway._

 _Then the weasel's infuriated face turned shocked and his eyes went dull as the rest of his soul fled his body. He fell, the double-bladed dagger clattering loudly on stone. Someone else stood over Rakar, but the sun kept him from seeing more than the vague silhouette of a—_

Something metal fell to the floor with a sharp sound, startling the young prince out of his uneasy sleep. Mortesen didn't twitch, though, still too tired from the emotional drain of the previous day's funeral. The night before, he'd draped himself across the foot of Rakar's bed and fallen asleep under the pretense of resting there "for just a minute." At least someone had been thoughtful enough to cover him with a heavy quilt.

One of the castle servants bent down to retrieve the spoon she'd accidentally dropped. She was a green raccoon, rather older, and Rakar could never remember her name, though he did know she was the head of the household servants. His mother always said to treat them as if they had no names so that they were constantly reminded of their place and didn't become too familiar with those who ranked...

He cut the thought off mentally before it could drag him down into a pit of sadness again.

Meanwhile, the raccoon—Reveka—finished scooping a spoonful of aromatic herbs into the copper pot beside his hearth. She went over to the windows and pulled back their drapes, allowing dawn to enter, then carried a chair over to his bedside and sat down to go through her basket after greeting him.

"So unfortunate... If only the healers in the army took proper lessons, this sort of thing wouldn't happen. Well, the wound on your scalp was done handily enough, but eyes are a far more delicate matter. If the royal physician hadn't undone the healing when he did, you'd be completely blind in that eye right now."

She chattered on, taking her time setting out the bandages and jars of ointment. Rakar didn't say how much her yammering annoyed him because even the physician accepted her advice when she suggested treatment for his right eye. The raccoon had everything ready at last and softly eased the pillow out from beneath his head so that he lay flat against the mattress.

"Prince Rakar, would you please take off your bandage? Slowly— _very slowly_ —I want you to open that eye and cover your good one."

He did as she said and found himself seeing pure darkness. A sense of leaden despair filled his chest.

"I can't... There's nothing."

"Of course not! You've kept it completely in the dark for nearly four days. It needs time to remember how to see. Dear, dear... It looks like you'll have a very visible set of scars there, but it can't be helped. While we wait, I'll try this new salve on those odd burns."

Rakar stiffened as the servant lightly smeared something cold onto the three other scars on his face. Around him, the world gradually began to lighten until he could distinguish dark and gray blurs. They weren't distinct, but at least he could see something. He described this to her and she gave a relieved, grandmotherly smile.

"Very good. Now I know the healing is actually taking place." She dipped her fingers into a different jar of ointment. "My Prince, this will be very uncomfortable. I need to spread this directly on your eye. Can you lie still for me and try not to blink?"

He gave a jerking nod, trying not to cringe back at what he knew was coming. With one hand Reveka held his eyelid wide, then the tips of her fingers approached the painfully sensitive organ. Rakar's jaw clamped shut and his whole body went rigid as the touch and sting of the salve commanded him to slap her hand away.

But he refused the urge, one word repeating endlessly in his head: _Control...control...control..._

The servant slid his eyelid shut with care then applied a new bandage. She tied a single strip of black cloth not quite diagonally across his face to hold it there. The burning didn't fade for a while, but at least being able to close his eye brought some amount of relief. Rakar didn't realize he was holding his breath and clenching his fists until she patted his shoulder and turned away to put her things back into the basket.

"Do your best not to rub it. This will have to be applied every morning until your eye is back to normal. Is there anything you need? I can have breakfast brought up for you both, if you like."

Rakar sat up and glanced at his brother, noticing how unkempt he looked. "Have someone prepare a bath in Mortesen's room, then bring two breakfast trays here in half an hour."

"Very well, my Prince."

She curtsied and left. Rakar waited only a few seconds before slipping out of bed. The hearth fire had died hours ago, and once out from under the covers it was obvious how cold the morning was. But he didn't bother putting on a tunic, instead stepping across the room to a mirror. At first he looked at the eye-patch, but then his gaze was drawn to the scars disfiguring his face and chest.

Of course the raccoon's ointment wouldn't work on these. No matter what she tried, the scars would stay there. He was certain of it. These thoughts absorbed him so much that he didn't notice the reflection of his brother's figure as he sat up behind him.

"Rakar?"

The brown hedgehog twisted around so fast that he knocked two books and a red-lacquered paperweight shaped like a dragon to the floor.

Mortesen blinked at this odd response. "What's wrong? Why are you acting so guilty?"

Rakar swallowed, but no words would come. The air felt hot and stuffy, though just moments earlier it had been frosty enough that he could see the palest ghost of his breath. His brother stood, staring at him critically.

"I didn't say anything before because it didn't seem to matter compared to...to everything else...but those are scars from using your gift, aren't they?"

The younger prince flinched, turning away only to find himself facing the cruel mirror.

"Do they burn?" There was concern rather than judgment in his voice.

"...Not after the first day," he answered at last.

"How many do you have?"

"Three on my face, five on my chest, one on my arm."

The older prince paused, trying to remember the information that had been almost too much to handle a few days ago. "Captain Stripeback said there were nine dead bandits heaped around you. Maybe the scars didn't fade because the souls had no reason to return to their hosts."

Rakar unconsciously touched one on his shoulder. "I suppose..."

"Did you keep the strength you got from them?"

" _I don't care!_ " Rakar suddenly exploded. "Don't you _ **understand?!**_ I have dead men trapped inside me! I can feel the echoes of their lives—!"

His legs buckled, unable to support him any longer, and a gasping sob wrenched its way out of his chest. Mortesen knelt down and reached out, but Rakar recoiled frantically.

"Don't touch me! I might do it again and you'll be caught too!"

But Mortesen grabbed him hard, pulling his brother into a fierce embrace and refusing to release him.

"What you did wasn't done out of malice! It was self-defense. It was all you could do to stay alive, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for your Royal gift. I don't know if I could handle it if you had been taken from me too..."

The very real warmth of his brother's fur seemed to dispel the stale air clouding around him. Bit by bit, the world stopped reeling and crying out with unheard screams. After a minute Rakar stopped shaking and the tight grip on him loosened.

"Thank you, Mortesen," he whispered. "Thank you for being here...for not abandoning me. You've done so much for me my whole life...and I'd do anything for you."

* * *

 **A/N: Anybody who's familiar with LiyuConberma's "Tale of Origin" knows those are some pretty hollow words. Still, I think Rakar meant them at the time.**


	7. Traitor's Hand

_**Chapter 7: Traitor's Hand**_

A loud knock interrupted the brothers. Hurriedly Mortesen helped Rakar up off the floor, then went over to the door. Instead of a servant bringing breakfast, a familiar figure stood there cloaked in travel dust and the weariness of a long ride.

" _Alexei?_ "

"Prince Mortesen, I found someone I'm sure you'll want to see right away: a young lady by the name of Thia."

He snapped fully upright. " _What?!_ How did you—? I'm coming." He shoved his feet into the boots at the end of the bed and started to leave, but turned back. "Rakar, this is important. I'll return later and we can talk more about what happened, alright?"

"I understand," came the reply.

As he rushed out, Rakar leaned against his desk, wondering why his brother's demeanor had changed so suddenly.

As soon as they reached the first stairwell the prince asked, "How did you manage to get her to come?"

The skunk looked back. "How do you _think_ I was able to do it? 'Karok' certainly wouldn't have come willingly."

Mortesen halted, but his friend didn't pause and he hurried to keep pace.

"Now I understand why you refused to give a description of her after your kidnapping."

He couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound like a petulant excuse, then they reached the main floor and passed plenty of servants going about their morning duties. It wasn't long before Alexei was opening the door to the dungeon. They continued down the stairs, coming to a heavy door with a deadbolt across it. The guard there bowed to Mortesen and let them through.

Another dozen steps and they were in the dungeon itself, lit only by torches that gave off a resinous smoke and he felt a bone-reaching chill encroaching from all sides. The skunk led the way past other prisoners—twelve of them the bandits responsible for the king and queen's deaths—to a cell at the far end where a hound sat on its haunches, eyes pinned on someone within.

"Good girl, Eoduin," he said, scratching her behind the ears.

Mortesen watched as he unlocked the cell and set a torch into the bracket inside. Athena sat on the floor, wrists shackled above her head. Her eyes were shut against the fiery light and she moved sluggishly.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Yesterday I gave her a potion to make her insensate, otherwise I'm sure she would have gotten away. It's mostly worn off by now. She just has a headache."

The prince tried not to overreact at this. He took several deep breaths and knelt down, cupping her cheeks with both hands as gently as possible.

"Athena, can you hear me?"

As she recognized his voice saying her name, the blue hedgehog opened her eyes. She stared into his face without fully focusing.

"There," came a croaking whisper from her lips. "I'm in chains just like you wanted. You didn't have to trick me into telling you all about myself."

"Inever told anyone _anything_ , Athena. I didn't trick you and I never wanted you caught. Please believe me." He looked back at his friend. "Alexei, get the key to these manacles. She goes free."

Alexei shook off his astonishment. "With all due respect, I can't until you use your truth-telling to prove she's innocent of the king and queen's murders. It was more than the beanstalks that gave away her involvement. _This_ was at the scene as well, and it was clearly not Queen Priscilla's."

He pulled Athena's shoe out of a bag in the corner. Mortesen recognized the glass beads at once.

"I...I can't use my Royal gift. Not right now. But I don't need to in order to know Athena would never attack my father."

"My Prince," Alexei said, trying to reason with him, "your brother said a giant plant seized King Negolas's horse and he fell. How is that _ **not**_ an attack?"

The prisoner kept her head down, saying nothing in defense.

Mortesen shifted closer to her, insisting, "Because she is too honorable to stoop to such a thing."

"Your father may very well be dead because of her and you still think she's innocent?"

Mortesen faced her again, the torchlight making her eyes look like a pair of glowing coals. "You may no longer trust me, but I trust you. I don't believe you meant my father any harm. Now, Alexei, _get the key_. But first go up to the laundry room and find something else for her to wear. I don't want her drawing too much attention dressed this way."

His friend could not ignore the note of command. Wordlessly he saluted and left the cell. They sat there, unable to say anything to one another at first. The black hedgehog didn't know how to express his feelings, that he wanted her to stay at the castle...

Athena's face was completely unreadable and she stared at him hard. "What if I had done it?"

Mortesen blinked in surprise. "You didn't."

"But what if I _had?_ "

"Athena," he said, fully serious, "what if I'd had all the peasants in the Loamhedge Quarries punished to get back at you for kidnapping me?"

"...I don't know. That isn't the sort of thing I could see you doing."

"Exactly."

They looked at one another, understanding passing between them. But then the blue hedgehog lowered her gaze guiltily.

"I didn't mean to. _Truly_. It was an accident. I was trying to help them…"

"You're the one who saved my brother, aren't you?" He ducked down slightly to catch her eyes again. "I can never thank you enough. It doesn't matter to me that you failed to save my father or Priscilla. You _tried_ , and that's what I'll remember forever."

Some of the anxiety along the corners of her eyes smoothed out as Athena gave the tiniest of smiles. Mortesen's expression grew thoughtful and he forced himself to say the things he hadn't had the courage to bring up since the beginning.

"I don't know why... You're nothing like her, but somehow whenever I see you I can't help remembering my mother. She wasn't brave or outspoken. Most of my memories are just seeing her in the background somewhere, sitting quietly. Her eyes were so weak she could hardly see, but she refused to wear spectacles, saying she accepted the way she was made." He glanced away, slightly ashamed. "I used to tease Rakar when we were young, but then I found out she was taunted by her siblings growing up. Seeing me do the same to him hurt her, so I tried hard to change. I was willing to do anything to make her happy."

He unclasped a bracelet hidden behind one wristband. He held it out so that Athena could see the glassy obsidian beads, each one carved with delicate runes he couldn't read.

"Just before the fever took her, she asked me to bring over her jewelry box. She took this out and fastened it to my wrist. 'As long as you wear this and think of me, you will never suffer true harm.' It's been years, but I hate to confess I still don't understand..."

The beads glinted as he fingered them, the creases of confusion distorting his features.

"I think maybe I do," Athena began. "It's very interesting that she said 'harm' instead of 'pain'. I don't believe she meant anything physical by it. Most likely Queen Amuera was more concerned for your moral character and how the power associated with your station could twist you into someone not fit to rule if there was no one to guide you well. Maybe she hoped that by remembering her on occasion, you'd try to become a king she would have been proud of."

The prince slowly put the bracelet back on, his hand lingering there in a guarded way. "I don't know if I can. She never said a word against my father, but I knew she disapproved of how he ruled sometimes. How can I be any different if I've been taught by him?"

Before she could form an answer, footsteps interrupted them. Alexei returned with the key and a dress was draped over his arm. The prisoner started to stand once the shackles were off, but at the first stumbling step, Mortesen wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I want to help you," Athena said once she was able to stand without help. "Can you take me to a map and explain just what happened five days ago?"

"Yes. But you'd best change into that dress first. The last thing I want is for all the servants to know you're Karok. Alexei, let's please give her some privacy."

The skunk and hedgehog politely exited and stood a little ways off. Eoduin stood at her master's side, ears cocked. A short time passed, then Mortesen heard an aggravated noise from the cell.

"Of all the stupid—! Why would they have buttons down the _back?_ " Athena stepped out carrying her black outfit under one arm and looking vexed. "Mortesen, could you please fasten these? I can't reach them."

Caught off-guard, the prince started to gesture for Alexei to do it...only to find his friend leaning against the wall, apparently asleep. Left with no alternative, he went over to where she waited with her back to him.

His fingers were clumsy and he managed two buttons with difficulty, but when it came to the remaining one, he paused. Her long quills were draping down onto his hands. With one thumb he stroked the soft bristles and Mortesen unconsciously leaned forward to inhale the scent of pine trees hidden among them.

Athena's shoulders tensed. "Stop it."

The black hedgehog withdrew, trying not to feel the heat building in his cheeks. "I-I apologize. I wasn't thinking. Just seeing you again is... I'm very glad I didn't lose you too."

"You never _had_ me, Prince," she pointed out crossly, turning to face him. "Don't fool yourself into thinking I'm actually someone you'd be able to marry. There is no political advantage to wedding someone like me. It isn't wise to pretend we could ever have anything more than friendship. Please...don't touch me again."

Behind them, Alexei loosened his grip on a dagger hidden in the armor on his forearm and pretended to sag as an excuse to jerk himself out of a "doze". His sudden movement reminded Mortesen and Athena that they had other business.

The three left the dungeon silently, going to the former king's study. As soon as the door closed, Athena went over to the map and found Sandstone Valley. She listened attentively as the situation leading up to the ambush was described, a flicker of surprise turning to skepticism. When Mortesen finished, she folded her arms.

"Everything was a lie from start to finish—a deliberate attempt to destroy the Royal family," she said simply. "It was only an accident that your brother survived and obviously you were expected to be with them."

The prince wondered at her absolute certainty. "How do you know?"

"Because the wells in Sandstone Valley started going dry over two months ago and most of the people there had to leave. Even if the peasants were stupid enough to try making weapons, there would be no point in defending a place where they couldn't live much longer anyway. The intelligence you received was false."

"That's quite an allegation," Alexei commented from his position behind her. "The only one who could have orchestrated it is Duke Windsor."

But Mortesen was preoccupied with something else. "I used my truth-telling when his servant gave the report... Even if I don't fully understand my gift, how could he have been lying outright?"

"Maybe he didn't," Athena said, placing one hand on the table right beside the invisible path in the hills where the king and queen had died. "If the servant believed what he saw—whether or not the peasants there were doing those things under orders—he would have _thought_ it was the truth. Did the duke know about your Royal gift?"

"I never told him, and my father wouldn't have." He considered more thoughtfully. "But Sherry... When we were younger I think I told her, or at least implied its nature. She's a compulsive liar and I wanted her to know she couldn't fool me. She must have told her father."

"Then he must have found out more about it somehow. Once he knew the loopholes, it would have been easy to find a way to manipulate any information in a way that looked like the truth to you."

"Then it's _ **my**_ fault..." Mortesen lowered his head then slammed his fists onto the table. " _He knew!_ He knew and he used it against me! Against my father! He and Priscilla are dead because I wasn't smart enough to realize—"

"My Prince," Alexei said with a firmness that stopped his rant. "Focusing on it won't help at this point. _Now_ you know. Deal with that."

There was a low growl, causing both skunk and hedgehog to look back. Eoduin stood in the hallway, fur bristling as Athena poised in the open door. She seemed upset at having been caught attempting to sneak away.

"Athena," Mortesen started, walking toward her, "wait! I want—"

But she cut him off almost savagely. " _No_. We've already discussed this. Don't make things worse."

"It's not that. I don't want you to be Karok anymore," the prince insisted. "You've been fortunate so far, but someday you'll make a mistake and might pay for it with your life. Please stay here at the castle—help me understand what I can do to make things better."

"Nothing short of altering the social structure of the entire kingdom!" she snapped back. "You're going to become king shortly. Why don't you try to do a little thinking _yourself?_ "

Skirt swishing above her ankles, Athena left the study. Eoduin started to bare a mouthful of fangs, but Alexei shook his head and the Mystical stopped. Something cold and heavy draped over Mortesen as she disappeared.

"I honestly thought she cast some spell on you before," Alexei murmured. "The way you were ready to release her without the smallest shred of evidence to establish she had no blame in the attack was too out of character for you."

"My...my father wondered the same thing. He said ever since I met her, I've been acting different."

"Yes, but now I see what it _really_ is," he said in a meaningful way. "Earlier in the dungeon she had the perfect opportunity to seduce you, and had you really been under a spell she would have taken full advantage of it. She didn't even make the attempt."

Mortesen turned away from his friend, embarrassed. "I thought you had fallen asleep."

"I may be exhausted from a long ride, but I'd be an idiot to let my guard down when I couldn't be sure she was trustworthy. It was a chance for me to see what she intended without being too far away to protect you if I had to."

The prince still looked uncomfortable about the matter since he certainly wouldn't have acted in such a way if he'd known Alexei was fully alert.

"So what is your verdict?"

"Aside from the fact that you're infatuated with her?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "Well, I believe she is sincere when it comes to you. She wants what is best for you and refuses to entertain any foolhardy illusions. I also think her assessment of the ambush is correct. You said Duke Windsor is the one who suggested the route, and he must have known we were traveling in two parties. It was too perfectly executed to have been chance."

"And if I'm not mistaken, he would be next in line for the throne. I remember my father saying once that he had a Royal gift, though a minor one, and that would make him more eligible than anyone else if both Rakar and I were dead."

The duke had been staying in Cosium Castle with his family after the ball ended, and twice since the king and queen had died he'd come to see the two princes, offering his services. If he was really intent on killing them, why hadn't he made an attempt at it?

Then Mortesen remembered that guards had been stationed outside their rooms in full shifts for the last five days, and if anyone aside from one of the physicians or Captain Stripeback came in, so did at least two soldiers. Windsor simply hadn't gotten his chance yet.

"This will have to be dealt with very soon. It's too dangerous to let him roam about the castle knowing he intends to slit your throat. But on the remote possibility that he _ **is**_ innocent, it may be best to confront him directly and use your truth-telling."

The prince didn't reply to his friend for a few seconds. "Thank you, Alexei. Go to the barracks and get some rest. I'll talk to your father later about Duke Windsor."

"Very well. I'll be reporting for duty tomorrow morning."

Alexei pressed a fist to his chest before leaving. The prince stood still, then his eyes began to rove around the study. It had crossed his mind countless times throughout childhood that someday he would inherit this room...but he always assumed it would be because his father had decided to step down.

The ornate chair at the table's head sat there, painfully empty.

But there was too much to do. He left the room, shoving aside the regret and sense of loss. There would be time for that later.

Reaching his brother's room, Mortesen dismissed the guards. It just might lull the duke into thinking no one suspected him, so by the time he noticed and decided to use it against them, there would be a trap in place.

Rakar was sitting at the table near the windows, eating his breakfast and reading a letter. He saw Mortesen enter and immediately held it out, somewhat chagrined.

"Sorry, Brother. This was addressed to the 'Prince of Cosium', so I thought it might be for me. It's from an assistant in the Royal Library of Ayortha. She explains everything they know about truth-telling. You were right before: it's about sensing sincerity, not the truth. A subtle difference, but an important one according to this."

Mortesen crossed the room and took the letter from him eagerly, but before he had a chance to read more than its introduction, the sound of the door opening then clicking shut caught his ear.

"Duke Windsor, _what_ are you doing in my chamber?" Rakar asked, irate. He hated visitors and everybody knew it.

The light green hedgehog stood there, appearing concerned. "I'm glad to find you both alone this morning, Mortesen, Rakar. I haven't felt comfortable enough to bring up the unhappy circumstances that led to your parents' tragedy until now."

Mortesen felt adrenaline flooding his veins. It had barely been a minute. How could Windsor have known the guards were gone so soon?! He listened to the echo underneath those words. There was nothing dishonest in them so far, but that meant nothing since he hadn't expressed anything that could reveal his true feelings toward them.

"Did you do it?" the elder prince growled, unable to keep the anger in any longer. "Are you the one responsible?"

Rakar shot up, his one good eye fastening on the duke.

"I have never desired any harm to come to the Royal family," he answered, looking baffled.

Mortesen's brow creased in frustration. According to his truth-telling, Windsor was not lying. But he _had_ to be.

Rakar glanced at the letter in his half-brother's hand then took a step forward, saying, "You appear to be choosing your words very carefully. When you say that, are you referring to _our_ Royal family or some other one?"

The duke's face underwent a radical change. The concern and affection melted into intense rage. Drawing his sword in a flash, he threw himself at the two princes.

Mortesen realized too late he was unarmed and groped blindly behind for anything at all to use in his defense. A chair came to hand and he heaved it as hard as he could. Windsor had to pause in order to avoid it, but before he was prepared, the black-furred prince collided with him. His sword hurtled across the room.

They locked wrists, wrestling back and forth. As Rakar ran forward to help, the duke's hands began to glow with magic and an invisible force slammed into the brown hedgehog. When he tried to shake off the dizziness, he found himself unable to get up.

Mortesen's hands began to glow too. An erratic windstorm that started and stopped took its toll on the room, buffeting them and fighting against itself. Since they both used the same Element and were related, the prince was able to detect the weaving just before the magic fully formed, so he could counter anything by blocking or shattering it with his own Wind in moments. Of course that also meant his enemy could do the same to him.

Still, Windsor was more experienced. He shoved a foot into Mortesen's instep then jerked sideways with his hands, causing him to trip. Refusing to let go of his opponent, the young hedgehog dragged him down too, making them both crash into the table. Delicate china dishes shattered on stone. Windsor seized a sharp knife among the fallen silverware.

Mortesen tried to keep the weapon back, but the duke had the advantage, having landed nearly on top of him during the fall. The awkward position flat against the floor limited the prince's range of motion so that his fingers began to lose their firm grip and the knife drew dangerously close to his chest.

He wanted to fade into his Element, but he had already used so much energy blocking Windsor's attacks that if he attempted to do it and failed, it would drain him so badly that he'd be helpless.

"I won't be denied the throne because of a couple children!"

Rakar was busy struggling against the solid mass of air that pinned him down. He glanced over as the green hedgehog ground out the cruel words and saw the knife. The rabid fear that Mortesen too would die in front of him surged through his mind.

An instant later his body had dissolved into a shadow, escaping the prison and reforming directly behind Windsor. The second Rakar's fingers touched him, all ability to move was lost.

The crown prince felt his opponent go abnormally stiff and nearly went weak with relief. Clambering to his feet, he snatched the knife and then stumbled over to the bell pull that called the servants. He gave it several quick triple-yanks, the signal for danger.

"How long can you hold him like that?" he panted, nodding to the frozen figure still hunched over someone who was no longer on the floor.

"As long as I want," Rakar growled and tightened his hold on Windsor's neck. "It takes no effort at all."

There was open defiance on the duke's face. If he'd been able to speak, nothing but insults and mockery would have come from his mouth. When a handful of guards burst into the wind-swept room, Rakar finally let go, shoving him down onto his face.

"Find his wife and daughter," Mortesen commanded. "I want all of them arrested for the murder of the king and queen, and attempted assassination."

Windsor was dragged away, spitting and cursing at the two princes, just as Reveka came in. She looked over the hedgehogs, asking if they were at all injured. Once assured of their well-being, she glanced around the chamber with a fastidious eye.

"This will take some work. Well, it's good your bath is ready, my Prince. You certainly need it."

Mortesen looked down and noticed for the first time that he was wearing his breakfast. The strain of the entire morning's different events broke, and he barked out a laugh at something so mundane and practical.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

* * *

 _ **A/N: I like Alexei a lot. Not only is he a gentleman, but he's probably the smartest character in the entire story.**_


	8. Turning of Hearts

_**Chapter 8: Turning of Hearts**_

Half a mile from the castle, Athena stepped into the cool area beneath the Forbidden Forest's trees, entirely unaware that Mortesen had been fighting for his life only a short while ago. There were several paths she could take back to her home, but the most direct involved crossing here to cut across a wide, reaching arm of the forest.

Trying to ignore the feeling that someone was watching her, the blue hedgehog began to walk, saying aloud, "Pardon me, but I won't be here long."

She tried to go straight, but the trees grew thicker, crowded with brush and thorns. The only clear pathway appeared to lead deeper toward the center. Leery of going that direction, Athena's hands glowed as she used her Element to move some of the thorny vines blocking her way.

Without warning a branch swung out and struck her back! Athena fell onto her face, then scrambled up, clutching her Karok disguise with a death grip and darting glances in every direction. There was no wind and not a single leaf stirred. Everything was unnaturally quiet. She felt her hearts thump with rising panic.

"Mortesen said you wouldn't harm me. I didn't mean to trespass. I'll leave right away if you'll just let me out."

Nothing changed. Then she noticed that the way she'd come now looked impassable. Despite the autumn coolness, sweat started to dampen her fur. Whatever this unseen presence was, it didn't have any interest in releasing her.

Swallowing the fear, Athena resigned herself to this situation and allowed the forest to choose her path.

* * *

Rakar's whole body felt as though a Lightning-user had sneaked up from behind and given him a jolt. Every cell screamed with a pain that wasn't physical, but just as striking.

"They're lying. They _have_ to be!"

"Rakar," Mortesen sounded so reasonable and he looked down once more at the letter from Ayortha that outlined the specifics of his Royal gift, "I questioned them for over an hour separately. Windsor never told them anything and they never plotted against us."

"But they knew _something!_ " he insisted. "There's no way they couldn't at least suspect he wanted the throne."

The black hedgehog shook his head. "Yes, but they were never part of it and that's the difference. I'm releasing them at the end of the week. Sherry and the duchess will be banished after Windsor's execution."

Rakar seethed. "The entire family of a traitor is usually executed, Brother."

"That's not justice; it's vengeance."

"Would you really feel that way if those blasted vermin had stabbed _Amuera_ in the heart while you watched?" he threw out, one hand going to his chest as the vivid, painful memory returned.

Mortesen didn't turn angry or resentful. If anything, a deep sadness filled his eyes and he touched the small obsidian bracelet briefly. "I hope so. It's the sort of thing she would have wanted."

For a moment Rakar stood still, completely stunned at his brother's words. Then his mouth set in a firm line. "Well, mine wouldn't. You may have despised her, but she's still _my_ mother and I loved her."

He turned and left the study before Mortesen could make a reply. After starting down the stairwell, Rakar paused for an instant to note his brother hadn't felt the argument important enough to pursue him. Quelling the beginning of resentment, he forced himself to keep walking.

The image of the previous day's funeral rites played before his eyes, returning repeatedly to the moment when his father's body dissolved into a burst of sparkling wind. Seconds later so had his mother's, though Priscilla's Element showed itself to be a soft, spiraling plume of smoke that danced gaily above the mourners, almost as though glad to be free.

Not paying any attention, he followed the predetermined path set by his feet that inevitably led to the dungeon. Upon reaching the barred door, he stopped to look closely at the wolf posted there. His fur was dark gray, the chest and the undersides of his arms white, and he looked to be about ten years older than Rakar.

"You... Aren't you the one who healed me?"

"Yes, my Prince," he replied looking somewhat nervous. The physician had been quite stern with him about his method in healing Rakar's eye.

"What is your name?"

"...Gregory of the Wulfenbach Clan."

Rakar looked at the bolted door, thoughts twisting with anger. "If by some chance the traitor down there got injured, would you heal him?"

The wolf looked surprised, then a flicker of understanding lit his eyes and he gave a toothy grin. "Oh, I see. Yes, I can make sure there are no visible scars, my Prince."

Rakar nodded, then he reached for the door.

"I only wish the crown prince hadn't decided to release those good-for-nothing women. I overheard Duke Windsor telling his wife he had money stashed away." Gregory's voice was full of disgust. "Once she and her daughter leave Cosium they'll still be living in luxury. Banishment will hardly be any burden at all."

The hedgehog clenched his fists. "I wish I could do something about that. After what Windsor did to my parents I refuse to let them escape punishment so easily."

"If there's a way, you'll find it," Gregory said with certainty, making Rakar turn to him in surprise. "You're quiet, my Prince, but you're not as passive as you've always pretended."

He paused, not sure exactly what those words meant, then without saying anything more he proceeded down the remaining steps. Taking a torch, Rakar went along the dungeon's long hallway, peering into each cell. A little ways down he found three hedgehogs.

Chains kept them fastened solidly to the walls. The duchess and Sherry sat beside one another, almost looking like twins with their pale blond fur, while the duke was held directly opposite them.

Rakar unlocked the door and immediately noticed the unpleasant shudder that they all experienced at his nearness. For the first time in his life, a surge of pleasure swept through him knowing he could affect them this way. Then the feeling transformed into something livid as he stood there, glaring at the one who had been directly responsible for the attack on his parents.

Windsor shook off the discomfort caused by the young hedgehog's presence and gave a taunting sneer. "Did your father squeal and beg for his life when they killed him?"

Three hard punches to his jaw knocked him nearly senseless, then Rakar grabbed the duke's left hand, trapped in a manacle.

"I'd like to hear _you_ squeal, traitor!" he snarled with a viciousness he didn't know he possessed.

Fiery hatred flushed a wave of heat through his entire body and there was nothing he wanted better than to make this murderer suffer. With deliberate slowness, he bent Windsor's smallest finger back until it gave a sharp crack and the prisoner made a stifled cry. Once the rest of those fingers were broken and Windsor was throwing the most foul curses at him, Rakar pulled a dagger from his belt.

"My father was stabbed through the chest just about _there_ ," he emphasized the spot by pressing just hard enough to draw blood, "but I'm afraid doing that would kill you too quickly. Why don't I show you what it's like to have your muscles carved up instead?"

Windsor spat and jerked, now beginning to show the first traces of fear as Rakar aimed for his shoulder. A voice stopped him.

"I'll tell Mortesen! He would never allow you to get away with this!" Sherry sat straining against her chains, an angry, defiant air about her.

But he knew she was right. Mortesen would be furious if he knew what Rakar was doing in the dungeon right now. He might even be more lenient with the two women if he knew they had watched the duke's torture.

Hardly realizing what he was doing, Rakar crossed the cell, seizing Sherry by the throat. At once her body went rigid as he touched her soul without pulling it away. His eyes bored deep into hers and suddenly he felt something else become clear: her soul had layers.

Mentally the prince peeled a few of them back, noticing her frenzied eyes unfocus, then he began to murmur in a low voice.

"You don't want to tell Mortesen. If you do, the same thing will happen to you. Your pretty face will be scarred so badly that no one will ever want to look at you again."

The words settled there, like little seeds, and he loosened his hold on her soul so that the layers folded back over the thoughts he'd embedded in it. She wilted, jaw hanging slack as though she couldn't remember how to talk. Her eyes continued to stare blindly into the distance.

Before he could forget how he'd done it, Rakar reached for the duchess even as she screamed, demanding to know what spell he'd cast on her daughter. The same thing happened. He left a deep impression that to tell Mortesen or anyone at all about the torture would result in pain and humiliation so great that she would rather be dead.

He didn't stop there. More words flooded the privacy of her soul, saying Windsor had left them destitute and all this talk of money was one continuous lie.

When he let go and she hung limply in her chains, Rakar nearly fell to his knees. He hadn't been aware of the energy being sapped from his body. His red eyes drifted over to the duke again, whose face shone clearly with alarm.

"Well, you might be good for something after all."

A second later Windsor was missing half his soul and suffering the loss with horrified confusion. "Wh-What are you? Some kind of _devil?!_ You aren't Negolas's son!"

"I don't care what you say about me," Rakar hissed, already stronger from the stolen energy. He could sense years of Windsor's hatred toward the king and jealousy for his throne. "I don't mind the desperate rambling of a condemned man. It actually makes me wonder exactly how much more fear I can make you feel."

The dagger plunged into the duke's shoulder and twisted one way, then the other. Pained shouts echoed throughout the dungeon, causing the other prisoners to shrink down. A dozen non-fatal wounds scarred the green hedgehog before he passed out.

Faint memories that did not belong to him were playing along the edge of his consciousness. Without realizing it, he'd used knowledge from the dead bandits to decide how exactly to go about torturing Windsor so that he suffered as long as possible without accidentally killing him.

Rakar cast a look at the two females and they huddled against each other, whimpering in terror. He went to the stairs, but as he mounted the first step the young hedgehog noticed his dagger dripping blood.

A horrible sensation tugged on his innards, threatening to make him throw up. Had he _really_ done those things? It almost felt like some mad, bloodthirsty beast had taken him over, feeding off the pain he caused.

The heavy door partway up the steps opened before he had a chance to knock. "My Prince, sit down a moment, if you can."

Rakar collapsed into the guard's chair.

"I'd best heal his surface wounds to keep him from bleeding to death," Gregory commented, noticing the condition of the dagger. He motioned to a bucket of water in the corner. "It may be wise to clean up a little. I'll be back very soon."

Dipping his bloodied hands into the water, the prince found himself shaking. The dread in their eyes...the disbelief... And what was it he had done to Sherry and her mother? Had he taken away their free will in affecting them that way?

A few minutes later the door creaked open once more as Gregory returned. He looked...impressed?

"Very well done, my Prince. It was the _least_ he deserved."

Had the wolf given even the slightest hint of disapproval, Rakar's shame might have overwhelmed him to the point that he regretted his actions. As it was, to receive nothing but praise vindicated his cruelty so that he could rationalize it, justify it.

But not only that. For as long as he could remember, the young hedgehog had felt weaker than everyone around him, unable to fully grasp his Royal gift so that he was completely at its mercy. Now a sense of strength and power flooded through him. The knowledge that they were helpless and he was in full control gave him a pride he'd never known in his entire life.

In that one instant, everything changed.

"I mean no disrespect when I say this," Gregory said, pulling Rakar from his thoughts, "but I've seen your brother's type many times in both my own clan and here in the army. Prince Mortesen will most likely be the softest ruler Cosium has known since Queen Susan the Gentle. He needs someone to be his backbone. You can be the arm that enforces his law, whether he knows it or not."

Rakar's mind whirled around this new purpose. Most siblings of the king or queen moved away because of marriage, but that possibility had been so remote, if not impossible ever since he first realized he gave off a sense of creeping unease he was unable to dampen. What woman would want a husband she could hardly touch without being repulsed?

But now...now he knew he had a place in the castle. Even if Mortesen did turn out to be weak, _ **he**_ could be the strength that kept his brother's reign firm.

"My Prince, if I may be bold enough to ask, would you be offended if I swore allegiance to you? I _know_ under your direct command I can better serve the Crown."

As noble as his intentions were, it was the first deliberate step toward the rift between himself and Mortesen. Staring down at the soldier who knelt before him making a pledge, Rakar never imagined that rift would turn deadly.

* * *

 _ **One Day Later**_

It troubled Mortesen that all business was conducted in his father's study, but the maps, books and relevant documents he needed were there. He refused to sit in the ornate chair at the far end of the table. It felt wrong even to consider taking that place.

"Do we _have_ to discuss this today?" Mortesen groaned, leaning tiredly against the table.

"If you want good relations with your people as king, then yes," Master Snowfoot said, setting a paper down in front of him. "This is a list of princesses and Coizard nobles who are eligible for you. There is a certain amount of stability a queen provides if she is present from the beginning of a new reign. If she comes along later, tensions can build quickly as they did with your mother and the nobility. They never fully accepted her, and not simply because she was King Negolas's second wife."

At the reference to Queen Amuera, Mortesen's fingers instinctively went to touch his bracelet. He tried to shake off the secret yearning for her by glancing at the page.

"Why is Princess Glaciana at the top? Are you leaning toward your native country for any particular reason?"

The Arctic hare frowned, then stood fully upright, ears straightening so that he towered even more over Mortesen. The prince was suddenly reminded that his tutor had been a boxer in his youth and still occasionally accepted challenges.

"Do not mistake anything I do for favoritism of any kind, my Prince. I have ordered them from most advantageous to least. The Ice Empire has been on fair terms with Cosium for years, but if the two countries were closer, proper trade routes could be permanently established that may help the villages in the portion of your kingdom closest to the mountains. They are remote and suffering badly, in case you didn't know."

"No," Mortesen answered. "But it seems as though everyone is suffering, whether it's from bandits, their own barons or the price of flour."

"Oh? You noticed that, did you?" The burly white hare appeared surprised.

"Yes, but I don't know why it happened."

"The price of grain went up because of a drought two years ago, but last year when it ought to have been normal, the barons decided together not to lower it. Your father knew, but he didn't like to be bothered with such inconsequential problems. He thought the bakers could simply charge more for their bread and didn't consider that the people who would be most hurt by it were those already enduring much."

"But..." The black hedgehog stared at the list without seeing it. "Why would the barons purposely do such a thing?"

"They don't care. Who is there to stop them? If your father wasn't willing to intervene and the dukes don't prevent it, they can do anything they like. Unless the peasants revolt, of course."

It sounded so much like what Athena had said when he asked why a baron would make young children do hard labor. He unconsciously touched a bulge from something in the inside pocket of his vest.

"Is that what most of the rebellions are about, Master Snowfoot? Unfairness?"

"Mostly," the hare nodded. He tapped the map of the kingdom, indicating some of the towns that had been suppressed repeatedly over the years. "Strict, unyielding control embitters more often than mellows."

"But Father always said that control was _most_ important when ruling a kingdom."

"He may have said that, but did he believe it?" The hare placed a hand on Mortesen's shoulder. "Did he ever attempt to control _you?_ "

" _ **Never**_ ," he replied with an indignant undertone.

Master Snowfoot gazed at him thoughtfully. "How very interesting that the king didn't follow his own purported philosophy. Maybe it's because he understood its flaws within his family, but didn't see its flaws when applied to the kingdom."

Mortesen couldn't keep Athena out of his mind. What would she say? He ran a hand down his face, wondering what the right philosophy to rule a country ought to be. The paper glaring up at him came back into view and he gave a start at the fifth name on the list.

"Wait...who is this Princess Rosella? I've never heard of her."

His tutor gestured to a larger map on the wall that depicted all the countries on this side of the ocean. One of the nations recently had its borders adjusted and it bore a new name.

"Two months ago Marcuria officially became Daventry and the conquerors raised a noble family to Royal status to rule there, so it may be a profitable match if you'd like to build good relations with that country while it's still young."

His face turned to stone. Mortesen stalked over to the windows, placing his hands against the wide ledge and staring mutely toward the sea. Although he didn't understand, Master Snowfoot recognized emotional turmoil when he saw it and tactfully made an excuse to leave, saying they could discuss the matter of a match some other time. A moment later the prince was alone.

 _Why?_ Why was it that no matter what he did, his thoughts always went back to her? It was as though the entire world had conspired to place constant reminders of Athena in his path.

His focus shifted inland and he blinked. Brow furrowing, he stared at the Forbidden Forest. Its treetops seemed to be moving in an unusual pattern...rippling like ocean waves. Grandmother Lake had to know about his father. She probably wanted to discuss it with him to make sure he was all right. And since he hadn't gone to her after his mother died, it felt important that he go now when he'd lost his father. Maybe she could also get his mind off Athena.

With that destination firmly in mind, he went down to the stables and saddled his horse, taking a side gate so that he didn't have to pass through Cosium Town to reach the woods.

Some time later when he came into sight of the hidden valley, Mortesen could see Grandmother Lake standing on the water. She bobbed slightly with every rhythmic wave that came from the spring-fed waterfall. Her eyes were fastened on the cliff face that rose up above the lake, its grooves and jutting rocks formed into the uncanny likeness of a wing.

"I knew he died the moment it happened," she said, her voice soaked with sadness. "The Cosmos Diamond cried out in such pain that every nature spirit in Cosium felt it... Negolas had his faults, but he was good at heart."

Mortesen kept his gaze focused on the willow tree at the water's edge, trying to push down the heartache that threatened to overwhelm him as he thought about the scepter that currently rested on the king's empty throne.

"The Cosmos Diamond will have a new king by the Kindling Festival."

"A bit quicker than I expected, but I suppose since you are sixteen already there didn't seem to be much point in waiting." She turned and walked to the shore, her not-quite-clear feet making no impression on the grass. "Can you do it? Take your father's place so soon?"

She always seemed to find just the right words to make him confront the very issues he wished to avoid. Mortesen shut his eyes tight and tried to hold back the acute pain. The loss of his mother had been expected since she'd been sick for weeks before succumbing, but his father's death had come with no warning.

"In this place you can always express yourself without fear of judgment, Mortesen," she whispered, one hand going to his shoulder. "If you do not give yourself the freedom to mourn, you will never be able to let go."

Her words evoked the sorrow he'd been trying so hard to suppress. Minutes later he came back to himself as the tears finally died away, finding he was sitting among the willow tree's bulging roots. Grandmother Lake knelt beside him, allowing his head to lean against her chest as she stroked his black and red quills in a comforting, motherly way.

"I thought I had already cried away my grief days ago," he confided, wiping his cheeks dry with his sleeve.

"That was only the anguish of the moment. The tears you shed today were for the real loss once you truly realized the full impact of his life on yours and that he will have no physical part in your future."

"My future..." His thoughts turned once more toward the subject Master Snowfoot had been so adamant about. "Grandmother, they want my marriage to be on the same day as my coronation. I don't want to make the same mistake as my father by marrying for political gain. It didn't last long in either case and he ended up with two wives he tolerated rather than loved."

"True. I watched your grandmother grow up. She did not believe love was possible in an arranged marriage, so she never made the attempt. It doesn't surprise me your father was something of a cynic as well. But you're different, aren't you, Mortesen?"

"I suppose…" The heel of the prince's boot dug a small hole in the damp soil, but he continued to sit beneath the old tree's boughs as though he hadn't the strength to move. "Whoever I choose, I want to be a real husband to her. Is it better to marry someone hoping that we learn to love each other...or should I wait and search for someone I love first, regardless of how long it takes? Do I even _have_ that luxury as a king?"

"I certainly wish your father had brought me that question, but he was always very independent when it came to taking advice." Grandmother Lake stood, looking down at him with one of those mysterious expressions women are so talented at. "Still, you should know better than to ask me to give you a plain answer. I _can_ give you a clue, however."

"Very well," he said, determined not to be like his father when it came to welcoming guidance from those older and wiser than himself.

"Then _listen_." The word filled the air around him, reverberating off water and stones. "Listen with your heart."

The forest spirit drifted away, fading into a wave of mist that swept down from the waterfall. Mortesen was left looking about for her and feeling more lost than ever. How could he listen with his heart when he didn't even know what he was listening _for?_

Wind rustled the grass around him, scattering a flurry of flower seeds so that they spun off and vanished into the blue sky. Should he listen to the passions that shunted him this way and that the same way the wind carried away those specks of dandelion fluff?

No... To listen with his heart was more than that... It was to give himself fully to the reception of a message so that he heard, not merely the words or sounds, but the essential meaning. Like the way he used his truth-telling, only deeper.

But he couldn't receive any message until he asked the right question...

Priscilla had been a reasonable queen as far as he could tell: taking her duties seriously and keeping relations with the nobles fair. But on a personal level she was manipulative and haughty.

On the other hand, Amuera had scorned her place as queen, focusing instead on her role as a mother. As much as Mortesen had appreciated her, he'd also realized very early on that this created much friction between her and Negolas since he felt she should take more interest in queenly affairs. But all she did was accept his criticism silently with eyes lowered, and nothing ever changed.

From observing his father's marriages, the crown prince had naturally taken away the idea that it was nearly impossible for a good queen also to be a good wife. He had been mentally separating the two all this time.

What was best for both Cosium _ **and**_ himself?

"Mortesen?"

He jerked to his feet, spinning around to stare at the figure emerging from the trees. She looked as though she hadn't slept all night, there were bits of grass and leaves snagged on her dress, and he could see berry stains on her gloves.

"Athena..."

"Please, can you show me the way out? I don't know what I did wrong, but this place won't let me go."

There was something almost begging in her tone, and he could hardly blame her for the wide-eyed fear that made her so skittish. If he didn't know Grandmother Lake personally, the forest's way of moving unexpectedly and its silent, faceless presence would be intimidating. He went forward and folded his arms around her, feeling the shudder of her quick breaths. She dropped the black clothing she'd been hugging tightly to her chest and clutched him instead, holding on as though afraid he would disappear.

"The forest won't harm you. Don't be afraid."

The sight and nearness of someone familiar after having been trapped in this green prison for a day and a night stabilized Athena. Within a minute or two she regained her full composure and drew away, brushing off some of the clinging leaves self-consciously.

"I would appreciate it if you escorted me to the edge now."

Somehow Grandmother Lake had known and set up this meeting. He didn't want to waste what could possibly be his last opportunity.

"I liked you before," he said quickly. "At your ball last year you refused to accept any disrespect. You weren't afraid to speak your mind and a threat wasn't simply words to you. So different from any other princess I've ever met."

She stared at him, distant and chin set almost stubbornly. He couldn't tell what she thought about his statement.

"That night I invited your mother to bring you to Cosium so that I could see you again under less formal circumstances. She said she would consider it. Is that why they came here after your family was exiled?"

Athena's face had become less defensive at the mention of her mother. A breeze rustled the grass around them as he waited for an answer, making them both shiver as it carried a slight chill.

"I don't know. They never mentioned it to me. Maybe they thought about it, but the humiliation of being dethroned and the strong possibility that we would be rejected probably kept us from coming to Cosium Castle."

"If we'd known your family was here we would have protected—"

"It's pointless to dwell on it," she interrupted bitterly, growing withdrawn once again.

"You're right," Mortesen admitted. "And I'm sorry that whenever I considered marrying you it was more of a wistful thought than a serious one. I never let myself think very hard about it because I knew no one would approve, and I have no doubt my father would have physically prevented it from happening."

"I knew you wouldn't." Her crimson eyes were filled with pain she didn't have the strength to hide anymore. "I knew you _couldn't_."

"That's not true." Mortesen took her hand impulsively. "My tutor told me that my marriage ought to be advantageous so that I can solidify relations with a country. Thanks to you, I understand the country I need to repair my relationship with is my own. You know more about my people and what they've been suffering than anyone else. Your kingdom was stolen from you, Athena...but you never stopped being a princess. That's the one I want to marry: a princess of my own people."

Athena started to whirl away but he clung tightly to her hand. Then he realized she was trying to keep him from seeing her tears.

"I can see that you truly care about my citizens and you wouldn't be afraid to tell me when I do something wrong, making you more fit than anyone else I know to be their queen. But I also feel that you'd be someone I can respect because of who you are." He leaned forward. "If...if you could find it in yourself to consent to be my wife, I will honestly do everything I can to make you happy."

There was a moment of silence between them, then she turned, meeting his eyes.

"Mortesen, I think...I think I've respected you ever since I saw the way you stepped outside the castle and involved yourself in the lives of your people." Athena's hand was limp as she started, but then it began to tighten gently on his. "During the ball I realized I liked spending time with you. When you let me go yesterday, it took all my strength to leave you behind knowing I may never see you again. I sincerely want to be with you."

They had stepped closer without quite realizing it. Mortesen reached up, stroking her cheek, soft and affectionate.

"Will you marry me, Princess Athena?"

"You and no one else, Prince Mortesen," she answered, cheeks beginning to color.

Grandmother Lake watched invisibly as their lips met with a tentative, curious touch. To those as old as herself, the patterns of mortal lives were at times very clear. She'd known the first time Athena entered her domain that the thread of her life could be intertwined with Mortesen's. A little maneuvering didn't hurt, though.

She gave a secretive smile, sensing the beautiful flowering of love neither had allowed themselves to acknowledge until this moment.

Their eyes drank in the sight of one another, and he guided her over to a stone. Gesturing for her to sit, Mortesen knelt down at her feet.

"I want to give you something."

She felt her cheeks warming even more, but then Athena stopped and raised an eyebrow as he pulled off her boot. From a pocket inside his vest he pulled a familiar shoe. Once he'd placed it on her foot, the prince looked up...only to see her staring at him, arms crossed and lips pursed.

"You gave me back _my own_ shoe? If you had found the other one I threw away too, I'd understand, but this makes no sense. Do you expect me to hop back to the castle on one foot?"

Mortesen gave an uncomfortable shrug. "...It seemed like a good idea at the time."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. "I thought you were trying to do something romantic, and instead you put a shoe on my foot. I can't tell you how 'overwhelming' of a gesture that is."

"Well, you have very lovely feet. They shouldn't be hidden by boots."

"Fine, but they're all I have right now."

When Athena reached for the boot, he pulled it away with a mischievous expression. An instant later she tackled him and they rolled on the grass, laughing. Once she recovered it and was in the process of putting it back on, Mortesen's attention turned to the hat and clothing she'd dropped earlier.

"Are you planning to go gallivanting around the kingdom now that you're going to be queen?"

She threw a smile at him. "In Marcuria we had legends about Karok too. He appeared whenever he was needed and disappeared when he wasn't. I think with you on the throne, there is no reason for him to keep an eye on the country. You can be Karok to your people without a mask."

The prince didn't reply, simply holding out a hand to her. Grandmother Lake continued to watch, and as soon as they vanished into the undergrowth, she picked up the discarded outfit.

"I'm sure Karok will be needed again someday. I'll keep this safe until then."

 _ **The End**_

* * *

 _ **A/N: I don't know why the prison scene gave me this creepy and yet thrilling feeling that left me giggling like a crazy person as I typed. Liyu, the creator of this world, didn't want the final sequence to end without including her shoe, but it didn't seem to make any sense, so after a bit of discussion we decided it was best as a joke. And I'd also like to thank the ever-helpful writer Qoheleth for giving me some philosophical tips regarding what exactly it means to "listen with your heart." I just don't get that sort of thing.**_

 _ **There will also be a short bonus chapter in a day or two to clear up a handful of post-story questions, so look forward to it.**_


	9. The Interview

_**Author's Note: The Interview**_

Athena swept a brush through her quills one last time and adjusted her crown, then looked back at Mortesen sitting on a sofa in the Royal chamber.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Athena?" he asked, tugging at his collar as if it was too tight. "I've never done an 'interview' before. What exactly is the point?"

"It's just a way for the kingdom to get to know us better without having to interact with us directly, that's all," she replied, going over to sit beside him. "The letter said she would be here promptly at noon. I just wish she'd told us more than her name."

"Well, if I _have_ to do this, I hope it's over quickly."

Before she could comment, there was a shuffling noise from the balcony and her husband shot to his feet. Someone threw a leg over the railing and then pulled herself up, breathing hard from the climb. She clambered over and hurriedly straightened, brushing the wrinkles from her blue-jean skirt and shoving a loose tangle of brown hair behind one ear.

"Your Majesties," she curtsied in a way that said she hadn't had very much practice at it. "Sorry about the entrance. The guards outside called me a furless giant and wouldn't let me in, so I had to get a bit creative."

Mortesen and Athena exchanged a look, wondering what sort of creature she was. Nearly two feet taller than themselves and without any hair aside from the tresses that fell loosely to her waist, neither of them had ever seen anything like her in Cosium.

"You're the…ah…"

"The reporter, yes. My name is Janika and I'll make this quick so that you can get back to your business and I can get back to mine, agreed?" She started to sit down but then snapped upright, cheeks turning a shade of pink. "Um… Do I wait for you to sit down first or does it matter?"

The king gestured to her chair and rejoined his wife on the sofa. "You had some questions for us?"

"Yes, just a handful." Janika crossed her legs and set a notebook on them, pulling out a pencil. "Now, then. First things first. There was a bit of kingdom-wide upheaval that started a few months after your wedding. Can you give some details?"

He looked guilty. "Yes, unfortunately. I sent a missive to every town and city, removing the barons from their prominence. They were to be treated the same as any other citizens of Cosium and were now answerable to whomever the town elected to be their representative, or Elder."

"Sadly several of the barons tried to pretend the new law didn't apply to them." Athena stroked his arm in a comforting way. "Things got out of hand very quickly in those cases and mobs stormed the manors, killing many families. Once news came out that this had happened, with even the barons' own soldiers turning against them, suddenly the nobles realized how vulnerable they were. The only ones who didn't flee to the cities were those who had treated the peasants fairly. They were few and far between, though."

Janika busily jotted down notes as they spoke. "But surely you couldn't let the peasants get away with murder."

"Of course not. But they felt justified in their revenge. In the end we punished them by restricting their resources and having three squads of soldiers occupy those towns for a year. It was enough of a deterrent that it kept things from getting out of control elsewhere."

Janika tapped the pencil against her lips momentarily. "I've heard about a pet project of Queen Athena's. Ah… 'Little Marcuria', I believe?"

"Marcuriana," the blue hedgehog corrected. "Traditionally a new queen is given a large tract of land to build a manor that will later go to any of her children that do not inherit the throne. I decided instead to offer the land as a safe haven to any Marcurian citizens who lost their homes during the war and have nowhere else to go. Mortesen promised that if more of my people come than that area can sustain, he'll set aside more territory for them."

She leaned against him slightly, fingers intertwining with his. Janika was too busy scribbling to notice the tenderness between them, asking her next question without looking up.

"And what about the continuation of your story?"

"Oh, that's already been completed," Athena answered. "There was the introduction of Benonic, our adopted son, in 'Immortal Insanity or Innocence'. After that comes 'Tale of Origin', the love story of our firstborn, Kaze, and Princess Sapphire."

"No, no no!" Janika cried, looking up at them as though they ought to know exactly what she meant. "I'm talking about what happened _between_ those two stories. It's important for people to know how things got to that point, especially with Rakar and his decision to—well, you know."

Mortesen started to glower slightly. "Oh. _That_. I don't know who would want to read a war story. Everyone knows how it's going to end anyway—and LiyuConberma won't change it no matter how many times I argue with her."

"But it could provide a lot more closure for her readers," the reporter insisted.

Athena offered a small smile. "As far as I know, there have been some general inquiries, but so far there's nothing we can really confirm. The story is a possibility. That's all we can say right now."

"Good enough!" Janika nodded, snapping her notebook closed. "Rumors are reality in my business. This information is _gold!_ "

Mortesen gave Athena a look that screamed 'What have you unleashed?!' as the reporter strode back to the balcony, stroking the notebook as if it was a favorite pet. With a formal farewell, she climbed back over and disappeared. The royal couple watched her go, then turned to each other.

"I got the strangest feeling she'll be back," he said. "And it doesn't exactly bode well for _**me**_."

* * *

 ** _A/N: I know I said this would be posted shortly after the story was finished, but I lost all my notes at my sister's house and didn't get them back until today. So anyway, as illustrated here, 'Immortal Insanity' is next, followed by 'Tale of Origin', but Liyu did express some interest in letting me do a story about the the Wrath of Magic War that is briefly featured at one point. I have the outline mainly finished, but the story itself is still in the first stages. Whether it will ever reach the point where it's postable is difficult to say. Keep your fingers crossed! And if y'all have any suggestions, I'm always open to new ideas._**


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